on the pain that went alongside loving Daniel Buchannan, Stella murmured words of comfort to Fiona and helped her turn on her side.
‘Why do I have to lie like this?’
‘Because lying flat on your back puts pressure on one of your major blood vessels and that’s not good for the baby.’ Patrick checked the baby’s heart rate. ‘That’s better. Thanks, Stella. That’s great.’
Daniel shot him a look. ‘It’s good to have Stella back, isn’t it?’ There was an edge to his tone that wasn’t lost on his brother.
‘Definitely.’ Playing with fire, Patrick smiled. ‘I was so pleased when she called me to talk through her plans.’
Stella threw him an incredulous glance. What was he doing? He appeared to be asking for a black eye for Christmas.
‘You didn’t mention it.’ Daniel adjusted the IV. ‘It must have slipped your mind.’
‘Nothing slips my mind. I just didn’t think you’d be interested.’ Calmly, Patrick checked the monitor. ‘What bloods have you taken?’
‘U&Es, FBC, cross-match, BMG, coagulation screen, rhesus and antibody status and Kleihauer—why? Did I miss something?’
‘No.’ Ignoring the snap in his brother’s tone, Patrick winked at the patient. ‘Now he’ll be unbearable.’
Fiona shifted the oxygen mask slightly. ‘Twins, both of you doctors.’ She sounded amazed. ‘One of you is an emergency specialist and one of you is an obstetrician?’
‘That’s right. My brother is the emergency specialist.’ Patrick looked at Daniel. ‘The work suits his personality. Quick and dirty. All superficial, no depth or emotion.’
Daniel’s firm mouth flickered into a smile. ‘That’s how I prefer it.’
While they bantered, the two brothers worked together seamlessly, exchanging information, conducting tests. Then Patrick moved to the side of the trolley and put his hand on Fiona’s shoulder.
‘Fiona, I think there could be some concealed bleeding behind your uterus.’ He spoke gently, knowing that the news he was giving wasn’t going to be well received. ‘At the moment everything is fine and I’m not going to interfere, but I want to transfer you to the labour ward, just to be safe. We can monitor you there and if we need to intervene, we can.’
Fiona shifted on the trolley. ‘What’s causing the bleeding?’
‘It’s possible that a small part of the placenta has come away from the uterus—we call it an abruption. I want to keep you in hospital for now, see how things develop.’
Fiona swallowed. ‘And if it gets worse?’
‘Then I will deliver your baby.’
‘But the baby isn’t due until January.’ Panic drove her voice up a pitch. ‘I have another six weeks to go.’
‘All the indications are that the baby is fine,’ Patrick said calmly. ‘And thirty-four weeks is early, that’s true, but not so early that I’d be worried. We have an excellent special care baby unit here—we call it the SCBU—but at thirty-four weeks your baby might not need any extra help. Let’s see how you go. My plan is to keep him inside you as long as possible.’
Fiona’s face crumpled and she started to cry again. ‘But this wasn’t my plan. I’ve been reading all the books—I’ve gone to all the classes—I know exactly how I want my labour to be.’
Stella picked up a box of tissues, about to intervene, but Patrick took Fiona’s hand in his. ‘It’s hard when things don’t go according to plan,’ he said gruffly. ‘I really understand that. It happened with Posy, my youngest, and it shook me up. Nightmare. Nature has a way of keeping us all on our toes, but all that really matters is that the baby is safe, Fiona. Remember that.’
‘Babies can die if they’re premature.’
‘There is no evidence that your baby is in trouble. And from now on I’m going to be watching you.’ Patrick pulled a couple of tissues from the box Stella was holding and handed them to Fiona. ‘Once you have kids, life rarely goes according to plan. Chaos is part of the fun. Or that’s what I tell myself when I’m tripping over children, kittens and unwrapped Christmas presents.’
Stella felt a lump in her throat. Tripping over children, kittens and unwrapped Christmas presents sounded like paradise to her. ‘Is there anyone else I can call for you, Fiona?’ Stella yanked her mind back from its fruitless journey towards a dead end. ‘Your husband is just having a few stitches in his head and then I’ll bring him to wherever you are.’
‘I keep thinking that this is all my fault. Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn the seat belt—’
‘Wearing a seat belt is the right thing to do,’ Daniel said firmly. ‘Contrary to popular opinion, wearing a seat belt does lower the risk of serious injury. Fiona, just relax and trust us. Patrick will make whatever decision needs to be made and it will be the right one, believe me.’
Patrick lifted his eyebrow. ‘You’re saying I’m always right?’
Despite her tears, Fiona gave a choked laugh. ‘Are they always like this?’
‘No, sometimes they’re really bad,’ Stella said cheerfully, squeezing Fiona’s hand. ‘I’ll come with you up to the ward. Then I’ll go and check on your husband. He must be worried sick.’
‘He feels horribly guilty, but it wasn’t his fault. The roads are lethal.’
‘I’ll go and see him as soon as we’ve settled you upstairs,’ Stella assured her. ‘Is there anyone else I can call?’
Fiona closed her eyes. ‘My mum? No, not my mum. You’ll just worry her. No one for the time being. But thanks. You’ve all been really kind.’
‘Let’s get you upstairs.’ Patrick moved the trolley towards the door and Daniel’s gaze settled on his face.
‘I want to talk to you.’
Patrick smiled. ‘I bet you do. But I’m busy, so it’s going to have to wait.’
Daniel strode down the corridor, his tension levels in the danger zone after six hours of working shoulder to shoulder with Stella. Six hours of torture. At one point she’d leaned forward to pass him an instrument and he’d detected the faint smell of roses. Knowing that it was the shampoo she always used had set up a chain reaction in his brain. Thinking about the shampoo had made him think about her hair, long and loose. And thinking about her hair long and loose had made him think about her in his bed. And thinking about her in his bed had—
Daniel ruthlessly deleted that thought from his mind, but it immediately popped back again, taunting and teasing his senses until he gave a low growl of frustration, oblivious to the pretty nurse who gazed at him as she hurried past.
Without slackening his stride, he took the six flights of stairs up to the obstetric unit, too impatient to wait for the lift.
Nodding briefly to a consultant he knew, he made straight for his brother’s office and pushed open the door.
‘You knew Stella was coming back and you didn’t tell me?’
Patrick leaned back in his chair and lifted an eyebrow. ‘Next time, knock. I could have had a naked woman in here.’
Daniel planted his hands on the edge of his brother’s desk, struggling with his temper. ‘Damn it, Patrick—just how long have you been communicating with my ex-girlfriend?’
Patrick closed the file he’d been reading. ‘Your ex-fiancée,’ he said with gentle emphasis, ‘and I’ve been “communicating” with her since you unceremoniously dumped her. On Christmas Eve. Not exactly the present she’d been hoping for, I’m sure.’
Daniel felt a sudden rush of cold.