The Midwife's Special Delivery. Carol Marinelli

no way he could expect to walk back in and take up their easy-going friendship, to stroll back into her life and take up where he’d left off.

      An ironic smile twisted her mouth.

      He’d left her naked in bed.

      Showering in record time, Ally pulled on a T-shirt and for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom she bypassed the G-strings and pulled on the biggest, comfiest, ugliest pair of knickers she could find—knickers her great aunt had sent her one Christmas, knickers that she had meant to throw out, knickers she wouldn’t be seen dead cleaning the windows with! Sliding into her cold sheets, she pulled the blankets up to her chin, closing her eyes on this turbulent day, willing sleep to come so that she could function tomorrow. Pulling a pillow over her head, she tried to drown out the noise, then gave in and stared at the ceiling, admitting the truth: it wasn’t Rory’s exhausted snoring that was keeping her awake—the house could be in silence and she’d still be lying here awake.

      It was the overwhelming fact that he was here.

       CHAPTER TWO

      WAKING up before her alarm, Ally washed and dressed in record-breaking time, layered her lashes with mascara and headed down to the kitchen. Berating the fact she’d flung all the sugar and milk down the sink, and loath to grind beans at this hour, Ally settled instead for a cup of black tea and a slug of honey as she stared at her ancient toaster and willed it to get a move on so that she could hopefully get out before Rory appeared.

      The doctors normally started arriving on the ward around eight, an hour after Ally’s shift started, but, given it was his first day, no doubt Rory would be keen to make an early appearance. But Ally was determined to be in her car before Rory even hit the shower. Collecting up her pens and stethoscope and slinging her identity tag around her neck, Ally wondered if she shouldn’t give him a quick knock before she left. There were no signs of life coming from his bedroom. Normally, or at least a few years ago, Rory would have been up like a lark, noisily hogging the shower, breakfast radio blaring, and Ally wondered if he’d thought to set his alarm clock before he’d gone to sleep.

      Of course he had, Ally assured herself. After all, he’d managed to work his way through two pizzas and had written her a note to go with her perfume before he’d gone to bed, It wasn’t as if he’d slept round the clock since she’d left him at lunchtime the previous day. And anyway, Ally decided, if he couldn’t remember to set his own alarm clock, it was hardly her problem. Closing the front door behind her at a quarter to seven, guilt caught up with her and she re-opened the door, this time slamming it with rather more force than she’d intended, causing her neighbour to frown as he picked up his newspaper from the nature strip and starting every dog in the vicinity yapping as if the postman was about to arrive.

      Surely that would shift him!

      ‘I told you that you’d be on the home run!’ Walking into the delivery room after handover, Ally took a very agitated Lucy’s hand.

      ‘You told me I’d have had it by now!’ Lucy shouted, her face red from exertion. ‘I can’t do this! I want an epidural. Where the hell’s the anaesthetist?’

      Ally had actually been rostered on for the postnatal ward this morning but, hearing how agitated and upset Lucy had become, it had been decided to do a hasty swap with the nursing allocations—continuity of care was always preferred and in some cases, such as this, essential. Lucy was starting to lose control, her high expectations of her labour—a quick natural birth—hadn’t apparently eventuated. Because Ally had seen Lucy on a number of occasions in Antenatal and on her arrival yesterday evening, it had been considered appropriate that she be present for Lucy’s delivery in the hope a familiar face might calm her.

      ‘It’s too late for an epidural, Lucy.’ Ally kept her voice firm, checking her patient’s observations and the latest CTG recording and noting that everything was progressing completely normally, though maybe not as quickly as Lucy would have liked. ‘You’ve already started pushing. Your baby’s going to be here very soon.’

      ‘It hurts,’ Lucy shrieked, fighting the contraction that overwhelmed her.

      ‘Lucy, take a deep breath and push.’ Ally’s voice overrode her patient’s scream. ‘Don’t waste your energy. Come on, push over the pain…’ For a second or two Lucy listened, pushing hard as Ally encouraged her. ‘That’s it. Come on, push down into your bottom.’

      ‘I can’t,’ Lucy gasped, lying back on the bed and shaking her head.

      ‘The harder you push, the sooner your baby will be here.’

      ‘It hurts.’

      ‘Because the contractions are working,’ Ally said. ‘Lucy, nothing we give you now for pain is going to have time to take effect. Your baby is nearly here, and if we give you drugs now it won’t help with your pain but it could make the baby drowsy at birth. What about trying the gas?’

      ‘I hate the gas!’ Lucy roared, but thankfully as another contraction came, this time she gritted her teeth and bore down as Dean, clearly thankful that things seemed a touch more in control, encouraged his wife to keep on pushing as Ally slowly counted to ten. ‘And again,’Ally said. ‘You’re doing marvelously. Take a big breath and push again!’

      She was doing marvellously! In fact, just as Ally was debating whether to give the on-call a ring and let them know they’d be needed in the next hour or so, things started looking rather more imminent. Lucy’s shouts were getting louder and her language was getting more colourful as she struggled to get off the bed. The timid woman Ally had got to know was gone now as her baby prepared to make a rapid entrance.

      ‘Get me the bloody anaesthetist!’ Lucy roared. ‘Or I’m going home this very minute.’

      ‘Good morning!’

      So calm and polite was Rory’s welcome, so huge his presence as he quietly made his way into the delivery room, that for a minute Lucy literally seemed to forget that she had a baby coming. Her angry face swung towards him, her bulging eyes struggling to focus as he walked over to the delivery bed.

      ‘Lucy Williams, I’m Rory Donovan.’

      ‘The anaesthetist?’ Lucy demanded. ‘About time!’

      ‘Afraid not.’ He gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’m an obstetrician. I thought about doing anaesthetics for a while, but I decided that I prefer my patients awake.’

      ‘Well, Lucy’s awake,’ a terrified Dean said, nervously shaking Rory’s hand. ‘No doubt the whole ward is now.’

      ‘From what I hear, she’s doing great.’ Rory gave Lucy a very nice smile and Ally could only blink in wonder as the roaring banshee that had been lying on her back suddenly sat up a touch and even managed a small smile back. ‘And if you carry on pushing the way you have been, you’ll have your baby in time for breakfast. I saw Win loading up her trolley as I walked past—I can’t believe she’s still here.’ The second part of his comment had been directed at Ally as she opened up a delivery pack but it was put on hold as Lucy bore down again, only this time it was with a rather more concentrated effort, and as she finished he easily resumed the conversation, this time including Lucy and Dean. ‘Win’s the domestic. She’s been here since they put the first coat of paint on and rumour has it that if you deliver before breakfast, she makes the lucky parents toast and eggs any way they want them. Sound good?’

      ‘Sounds great,’ Lucy gasped, gesturing for Dean to hand her some ice chips. In the momentary lull Ally headed over to the other side of the delivery room and started to pull up some drugs for the delivery and check the baby warmer.

      ‘Thanks for waking me.’ Rory’s sarcasm was delivered good-naturedly. ‘If your neighbour hadn’t had a dog barking the street down, I’d still be asleep.’

      ‘You should have set your alarm.’ Ally shrugged, refusing to take any responsibility.