One Night With The Italian Doc. Kate Hardy

a mile.’

      ‘If he’d tried anything three months ago, what would you have done?’

      ‘Run a mile,’ Louise admitted.

      Only now was she truly healing.

      ‘Do you want to give it a try?’

      ‘I think so,’ Louise said, ‘but I want this so much too.’

      She wanted back her one hundred per cent and her unwavering certainty she was finally on the right path. Unthinkingly she looked across the canteen and possibly the cause of her indecision sensed it, because Anton glanced over and briefly met her gaze.

      ‘I don’t see a problem.’ Susan picked up her knife and fork and brought Louise back to the conversation. ‘You don’t have an appointment till the second week of January and Richard did say to go and enjoy Christmas. Have some fun, heaven knows, you deserve it. Maybe just try not to think about getting pregnant for a few weeks.’

      Louise nodded, though her heart wasn’t in it. Her mum tried, she really did, but she simply couldn’t get it. Getting pregnant wasn’t something Louise could shove in a box and leave in her wardrobe and drag it out in a few weeks and pick up again—it was something she had been building towards for a very long time.

      She glanced over and saw that Anton was walking out of the canteen. There had been so little conversation of late between them that Susan could never have guessed the topic of their conversation had just walked past them.

      ‘Think about counselling,’ Susan suggested again.

      ‘Why would I when I’ve got you?’ Louise smiled.

      ‘Ah, but since when did you tell me all that’s going on?’

      Her mother was right, she didn’t tell her parents everything. ‘Maybe I will,’ Louise said, because this year had been one of so many changes. Even as little as a month or so ago she’d have died on the spot had Anton responded to one of her flirts. She was changing, ever changing, and every time she felt certain where she was heading, the road seemed to change direction again.

      No.

      Louise refused to let go of her dream.

      ‘I need to get to my shift.’

      ‘And I need to hit the shops.’ Susan smiled. ‘Come over at the weekend, I’ll make your favourite.’

      ‘I shall,’ Louise said, and gave her mum a kiss goodbye. ‘I’ll give you a call. Thanks for coming with me today.’

      Louise’s patient allocation was a mixed bag between Stephanie and Anton’s patients and all were prenatal patients, which meant no baby fix for Louise this shift.

      ‘Hi, Carmel, I’m Louise,’ she introduced herself to a new patient. Carmel had been admitted via the antenatal clinic where she had been found to have raised blood pressure. ‘How are you?’

      ‘Worried,’ Carmel said. ‘I thought I was just coming for my antenatal appointment and I find out my blood pressure’s high and that the baby’s still breech. I’m trying to sort out the other children.’

      ‘This is your third?’

      Carmel nodded. ‘I’ve got a three- and a five-year-old. My husband really doesn’t have any annual leave left and I can’t ask my mum.’ Carmel started to cry and, having taken her blood pressure, Louise sat on the chair by her bed.

      ‘There’s still time for the baby to turn,’ Louise said. ‘You’re not due till January …’ she checked her notes ‘… the seventh.’

      ‘But Stephanie said if it doesn’t turn then I’ll have a Caesarean before Christmas.’

      Louise nodded because, rather than the chance of the mother going into spontaneous labour, Caesareans were performed a couple of weeks before the due date.

      ‘I just can’t be here for Christmas. I know the baby might have come then anyway but at least with a natural labour I could have had a chance to be in and out …’ Carmel explained what was going on a little better. ‘My mum’s really ill—it’s going to be her last Christmas.’

      Poor Carmel had so much going on in her life at the moment that hospital was the last place she wanted to be. Right now, though, it was the place she perhaps needed to be, to concentrate on the baby inside and let go a little. Louise sat with her for ages, listening about Carmel’s mum’s illness and all the plans they had made for Christmas Day that were now in jeopardy.

      Finally, having talked it out, Carmel calmed a bit and Louise pulled the curtains and suggested she sleep. ‘I’ll put a sign on the door so that you’re not disturbed.’

      ‘Unless it’s my husband.’

      ‘Of course.’ Louise smiled. ‘The sign just says to speak to the staff at the desk before coming in.’

      She checked in on Felicity, who was one of Anton’s high-risk pregnancies, and then she got to Emily.

      ‘How’s my favourite patient?’ Louise asked a rather grumpy Emily.

      Emily was very bored, very worried and also extremely uncomfortable after more than a week and a half spent in bed. She was relying heavily on Louise’s chatter and humour to keep her from the dark hole that her mind kept slipping into. ‘I’m dying to hear how you got on at your appointment.’

      ‘It went really well,’ Louise said, as she took Emily’s blood pressure.

      ‘Tell me.’

      ‘He was really positive,’ Louise explained, ‘though not in a false hope sort of way, just really practical. I’m going to be seeing him in the new year, when all my results are in, to see the best direction to take, but I think it will be IVF.’

      ‘Really!’

      ‘I think so.’ Louise nodded. ‘He discussed egg sharing, which would mean I’ll get a round of IVF free …’

      ‘You don’t feel funny about egg sharing?’ Emily asked, just as Anton walked in.

      ‘God, no,’ Louise said, happy to chat on. ‘I’d love to be able to help another woman to get her baby. It would be a win-win situation. I think egg sharing is a wonderful thing.’

      She glanced over as Anton pulled out the BP cuff.

      ‘I’ve done Emily’s blood pressure,’ Louise said.

      ‘I’m just checking it for myself.’

      Louise gritted her jaw. He did this all the time, all the time, even more so than before, and though it infuriated Louise she said nothing.

      Here wasn’t the place.

      ‘Everything looks good,’ Anton said to Emily. ‘Twenty-nine weeks and four days now. You are doing really well.’

      ‘I’m so glad,’ Emily said, ‘but I’m also so …’ Emily didn’t finish. ‘I hate that I’m complaining when I’m so glad that I’m still pregnant.’

      ‘Of course you are bored and fed up.’ Anton shrugged. ‘Would a shower cheer you up?’

      ‘Oh, yes.’

      ‘Just a short one,’ Anton said, ‘sitting on a chair.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Emily said, but when Anton had gone she looked at Louise. ‘What’s going on with you two?’

      ‘Nothing,’ Louise said.

      ‘Nothing?’ Emily checked. ‘Come on, Louise, it’s me. I’m losing my mind here. At least you can tell me what’s going on in the real world.’

      ‘Maybe a teeny tiny thing has gone on,’ Louise said, ‘but we’re back to him sulking at me now and double-checking everything that I do.’

      ‘Please, Louise, tell