Midwives On Call At Christmas: Midwife's Christmas Proposal. Abigail Gordon

didn’t appreciate it.

      ‘Hello, dear.’ Louisa cast her a relieved glance. ‘What are you doing today?’

      ‘Have a young mums’ class this afternoon but happy to do whatever if you need something, Louisa.’

      ‘No. I’m off to bingo with a friend down at the hall and I wondered if you and Maeve could fix your own lunches.’

      ‘No problem.’ She smiled at the younger woman. ‘We’ll manage, won’t we, Maeve?’

      The girl barely looked up. ‘Of course.’

      ‘Still nauseous?’ Tara could see she looked a little pale around the cheeks.

      Maeve grimaced. ‘Getting worse, not better. And I’m starting to get this insane itch that’s driving me mad.’

      Tara frowned. A tiny alarm pinged in her brain with the symptoms but she let it lie for a moment. ‘Not fun. What have you tried?’

      ‘Pretty well everything.’ She shrugged. ‘Pressure-point armbands. Ginger. Sips of cold water. Sips of hot water for nausea.’ She absently scratched her belly through her shirt. ‘And just calamine for the itch but I only put it on the places you can’t see. I never liked pink as a kid and it’s too embarrassing to be painted pink all over.’

      Tara laughed. ‘That’s the thing with midwives. We know all the things we tell other women and it sucks when it doesn’t work.’

      ‘Embarrassing really.’ The young woman looked a little less tense now that Tara had acknowledged Maeve knew her stuff.

      ‘I imagine being pregnant would expand your thirst for remedies?’

      Maeve rolled her eyes and even smiled. ‘You have no idea. I’ve read everything I can find on common complaints of pregnancy.’

      ‘I’ll have to get you to brush me up on them later.’

      Tara was glad to hear that Maeve really did have a sense of humour. ‘Makes you wonder what the women thought when it didn’t work for them either.’ They smiled at each other.

      Maeve nodded. ‘I’ll clarify next time. Works most of the time.’

      ‘Have you had a chance to sit down with someone and talk about the actual plans you have for labour?’

      It was a reasonable question, considering she’d just moved to a new centre for care, but Tara felt the walls go up from across the table.

      Maeve shot her a glance. ‘You mean antenatal classes? Simon been talking to you?’

      ‘I’m guessing Simon talks to everyone.’ A little bit ambiguous. ‘But Mia asked, yes. I usually run a younger mums’ class this week and I thought seeing as you were a midwife you might be interested in helping me—from a pregnant woman’s perspective. But, then, you might prefer the idea of just a chat, and I’d be happy to do that if you did want one if you’re not already teed up with someone else?’

      ‘Sorry. I’m just a bit narky lately. Everything is a mess.’

      Life. Didn’t she know it could do that! ‘Oh, yeah. It gets like that sometimes. I’m an expert at it. Plus your itch and nausea would impact on anyone’s day, let alone someone carrying a watermelon everywhere.’

      Maeve did laugh then. ‘Feels like it. And it feels like this pregnancy is never going to end, but I’m going to be patient and not let anyone push me into something I don’t want.’

      ‘Good on you. Who were you thinking of seeing here?’

      Maeve shrugged. ‘Don’t know. As long as it’s low key I don’t care. I saw the doctor Simon teed me up with a few times but last month he started talking about induction of labour and possible epidurals and maybe even Caesareans. I couldn’t believe it, so I told Simon I was out of there. He wouldn’t hear of a home birth and we compromised on Lyrebird Lake Birth Centre.’

      ‘And the father of the child?’

      Maeve looked away. ‘Conspicuous by his absence. And I don’t want to look back on this birth and regret it. I’m already regretting enough about this pregnancy. I need to have some control and I wasn’t going to get it at Simon’s hospital.’

      Tara was a hundred per cent agreeable to that. ‘Go, you, for standing up for yourself and your baby.’ Tara wondered if she could offer without putting too much pressure on her.

      ‘There’s three doctors here who do antenatal care, and four midwives. If you think you’d be happy on a midwifery programme, you just need to pick someone. I’ve two women due in the next fortnight but apart from home visits I’m free to take on new women. You could meet the other midwives tomorrow but keep it in mind. You’re probably due for tests around now anyway.’

      Maeve looked across and smiled with a shyness Tara guessed was way out of character. ‘Actually, that would be great.’

      ‘You sure?’

      Maeve looked relieved. ‘Very. And we can talk about the labour then too.’

      ‘Fine. We’ll wander down to the clinic after morning tea, check you and baby out, and get all the papers sorted with the stuff you brought. If you change your mind after I’ve nosed my way through your medical and social history I can hand you on to someone else.’

      ‘Lord. Social history. And isn’t all that a disaster? Sometimes I feel like I’ll never get sorted. I never used to be like this.’

      ‘Sympathy.’ Tara smiled in complete agreement. ‘I was pretty lost before I came here. The good news is that you’re female so you’ll still come out on top.’

      Maeve blinked and then smiled. ‘Okay, then. Must remember that for my clever brother.’

      ‘He seems nice.’

      ‘Too nice.’ Both girls looked at each other, were obviously thinking of their previous boyfriends who had been anything but, and laughed. Ten seconds later they heard footsteps leaping up the back stairs and Simon appeared behind the back porch screen door. Of course both of them struggled to control their mirth.

      ‘What’s so funny?’ The door shut quietly behind him and he looked from one to the other, brows raised, fine sweat across his brow. Obviously he’d been running.

      ‘Nothing.’ In unison.

      He shook his head at them. ‘Okay. Girl talk. You want to go for a swim, Maeve?’

      Tara saw her face change. Become shuttered. ‘No, thanks. I’m catching up on my emails.’

      ‘Tara?’

      She could just imagine Simon in swimmers. Wouldn’t she just. ‘No, thanks.’

      ‘You sure?’

      Maeve chimed in. ‘Go. It’s your day off. We can do that other thing when you come back. There’s hours before then.’

      Tara didn’t understand the wall Maeve had erected between herself and her brother. If she had a brother like Simon she’d be all over him, but there was probably stuff she didn’t know. ‘Fine. Thanks. I love to swim.’ She looked at him. Saw him glance at his watch. ‘I’m guessing you want to go now?’

      Simon nodded and he seemed happy enough that she’d agreed to come. She’d hate to think all these people were forcing her on him but what the heck. She’d enjoy it while it lasted.

      ‘Five minutes enough time? Out the front?’ he said.

      ‘I’ll be there.’

      Simon watched Tara towel her shoulders vigorously and then rub shapely calves and stand on one leg and dry her toes.

      He suffered a brief adolescent urge to metamorphose into her towel. Apart from her delightful breasts her body was firm and supple and he suspected she would feel incredibly sleek and smooth in his arms.

      The