‘Oh, my God. I knew it …’
‘Sweetheart, we’ll do our best. It’ll be okay.’ Isabel prayed silently that it would. ‘Your placenta is failing, I think the car impact may have given it a nasty jolt or tear and there’s a real risk to the baby if we don’t do something soon. As you know the placenta is what keeps baby alive, so we have to take you to the operating theatre and do a Caesarean section. I need your consent—’
‘Where’s Susan? Susan? Where’s Susan?’ A burly-looking stocky man covered in dust pushed his way in, steel-capped boots leaving grubby imprints across the floor. ‘What the hell’s happening?’
Isabel scanned the room for Sean. But he was there already, his hand on Tony’s forearm, gently slowing him down. ‘Are you Tony? Here, let me bring you over. It’s a lot to take in, I know, mate. There’s a few tubes and lines and she looks a little pale. But she’s good.’
‘She is not good. Look at her.’ The room filled with the smell of beer and a voice that was rough round the edges, and getting louder. ‘Is that …? Is that blood? What’s happened? What about my boy? The baby! Susan! Are you all right?’ Then his tone turned darker, he shoved out of Sean’s grip and marched up to Isabel. In her face. Angry and foul-mouthed. ‘You. Do something. Why are you just standing there? Do something, damn it.’
Isabel’s hand began to shake. But she would not let him intimidate her. ‘I’m doing the best I can. We all are. Now, please—’
‘No need for that, mate. Come away.’ Sean’s voice was calm but firm. At six foot one he was by far the bigger man. Broader too. And while Tony was rough and menacing, Sean was authoritative. There was no aggression, but a quietly commanded respect and attention. ‘We’re going to take her to Theatre right now, but first we need to know what we’re dealing with. Yes? Have a few words with Susan, but then we need to get moving. I’ll show you where you can wait.’
‘Get your hands off me.’ Tony pushed his way to the trolley. ‘Susie.’
‘I’ll be fine, Tony. Just do as he says.’ Susan started to shake. ‘I love you.’
‘If they don’t—’
Sean stepped forward. ‘As I said. Come with me. Now. Let’s have a quiet word. Outside.’ He bustled Tony out of the room.
‘He’s not a bad man.’ Isabel’s patient’s voice was fading. Alarms began to blare.
‘I know, I know, he’s scared, is all.’ Thank God Sean was able to contain him because the last thing Isabel needed was a drunk father getting in the way of saving a mother and baby. ‘Now we need to get you sorted, quickly.’ Isabel nodded to the porter. ‘Let’s go.’
She all but ran to the OR, scrubbed up and was in the operating theatre in record time. Sean, somehow, was there before her. ‘So we have a crash C-section scenario. Your call, Izzy. Whatever happens, I’ve got your back.’
‘Thank you.’ And she meant it. Well drilled in dealing with emergencies, she felt competent and confident, but having someone there she knew she could rely on gave her a lift. Even if that lift involved her heart as well as her head.
Within minutes she’d tugged out a live baby boy. Floppy. Apgar of six. But, with oxygen and a little rub, the Apgar score increased to ten. As occurred with every delivery Isabel felt a familiar sting of sadness, and hope. But she didn’t have time for any kind of sentimentality. One life saved wouldn’t be enough for her. Placental abruption was harrowing and scary for the mother but it was high risk too. That amount of blood loss, coupled with the potential for complications, meant they were perilously close to losing her.
‘Blood pressure’s dropping …’ The anaesthetist gave them a warning frown.
‘Hang on in there … I just need to find the tear.’ Isabel breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the placenta and started to remove it. ‘Attagirl.’
Within an hour they’d managed to save Susan’s life too, although she had hung close to the edge. Too close.
And now … well, now that dad was with baby, her patient was in recovery and the rest of the staff had scarpered, Isabel was alone. Alone, that was, with the one person she never wanted to be alone with again. Rather than look at him she stared at the words she was writing. ‘Well, Sean, I don’t want to keep you while I finish writing up these notes. Thanks, you were a great help. Things could have turned nasty with Tony.’
‘He just needed me to explain a few things. Like how to behave in an emergency department. But I get it. The bloke was worried. I would have been too if I was losing my wife and my baby.’
Guilt crawled down her spine. How would he have been? At seventeen? Quick-mouthed and aggressive? Or the self-assured, confident man he was now? She stole a quick glance in his direction. ‘You wouldn’t have acted like that. So thanks for dealing with him. And for your help in here.’
‘It wasn’t just me. We almost lost them both, but your quick thinking and nifty work saved both their lives. Well done.’ He threw his face mask into the bin, snapped his gloves off and faced her. ‘You look exhausted.’
‘Gee, thanks. I’m fine.’ She didn’t feel fine. Her legs were like jelly and her stupid heart was still pounding with its fight-or-flight response. She looked away from the notes and towards the door. Flight. Good idea. Easier to write them up in the safety of her office, which was a Sean-free zone. Snapping the folder closed, she looked up at him. ‘Actually, I’ve got to go.’
‘Wait, please.’
She stepped towards the door and tried hard to look natural instead of panicked. ‘No. I have a million things to do.’
‘They can wait.’ His tone was urgent, determined. He was striding towards the exit now too.
‘No. They can’t.’
‘Isabel. Stop avoiding me, goddamn it!’
He was going to ask.
He was going to ask and she was going to lie. Because lying had been the only way to forge enough distance between her and the one thing she had promised herself she could never do again: feel something.
She calculated that it would take precisely five seconds to get out of the chilly delivery room and away from his piercing blue-eyed gaze. For the last two months she’d managed to steer clear from any direct one-to-ones with him, shielding herself with colleagues or friends. But now, the things unsaid between them for almost seventeen years weighed heavily in the silence.
He was going to ask and she was going to lie. Again.
The lies were exhausting. Running was exhausting. Just as getting over Sean and that traumatic time had been. She didn’t want to have to face that again. Face him again.
His scent filled the room. Sunshine. Spice. His heat, so familiar and yet not so.
Seventeen years.
God, how he’d matured into the sophisticated, beautiful man he was destined to be. But wanting answers to questions that would break her heart all over again … and his.
She made direct eye contact with the door handle and started to move towards it again.
‘Izzy?’
She would not turn round. Would. Not. ‘Don’t call me that here. It’s Isabel or Dr Delamere.’
‘Hello? It’s not as if anyone can hear. There’s only you and me in here. It’s so empty there’s an echo.’
‘I can hear.’ And I don’t want to be reminded. Although she was, every day. Every single day. Every mother, every baby. Every birth. Every stillborn. Every death.
She made it to the door. The handle was cold and smooth. Sculpted steel, just like the way she’d fashioned her heart and her backbone. Beyond the clouded glass she could make out a bustling corridor