in her legs and her blood pressure had been fine at the last visit. Her pregnancy had been uneventful until the twinge, something which was at complete odds with her disastrous personal life. But she was grateful she had something positive upon which to focus.
As they passed the fourth floor and the elevator seemed to almost pause, suddenly she felt another more intense contraction. Claudia tried to smile through it but suspected it was closer to a grimace. Braxton Hicks contractions were a lot different to what she had expected. She had been told that a woman could experience up to four in an hour but she hadn’t thought they would be so close together.
Patrick eyed her with concern but, just as he opened his mouth, the stalling elevator came to a jarring halt. Claudia grabbed the railing to steady herself and they both looked up to see the floor light flickering and waited for the doors to open. But they didn’t. Instead the lift dropped what she imagined to be another floor and stopped. Patrick had already taken two purposeful steps towards Claudia and she felt his strong arms wrap around her to prevent her from falling. His touch should have worried her but instead a wave of relief washed over her. She was not alone.
‘Let’s get you on the floor. It will be safer.’ Hastily he pulled off his jacket and dropped it to the elevator floor before gently lowering Claudia onto it.
‘Your jacket—it will be ruined.’
‘At this moment, a ruined jacket is not my concern. You are,’ he said matter-of-factly but with an unmistakable warmth in his voice and one Claudia didn’t believe she truly deserved after her behaviour. ‘When are the babies due?’
‘The twins aren’t due for another six and a half weeks and I’m fine, really I am,’ she insisted as she tried to sit gently and not move and crease the jacket underneath her. ‘I’m flying out tomorrow with the doctor’s approval; it’s the last possible day that the airline will allow me to travel.’
‘You’re cutting it fine with the whole long haul at almost thirty-four weeks,’ he replied with his brows knitted. He added, ‘You seemed to be in pain a moment ago.’ It was a question he framed as a statement. He didn’t want to appear overbearing but he was concerned. He was also doubtful whether she should be travelling at such a late stage of pregnancy. Even with a clean bill of health, it seemed risky for her to take a long haul flight so close to delivering.
‘Yes, just one of these Braxton Hicks contractions.’
‘You’re sure?’ His frown had not lifted as he spoke.
This time it was a question and she sensed genuine concern. It heightened hers.
‘Absolutely,’ she said, followed by a nod. It wasn’t the truth. The truth was that she had never been quite so scared in her life but she had to push that reality from her mind and remain positive. The worst-case scenario was too overwhelmingly frightening to consider without collapsing into a heap. She had been holding everything together tenuously for so many months her nerves were threadbare.
‘If you say so,’ he told her, doubt about her response evident in his tone. ‘Just stay seated till we reach the ground.’ He retrieved his mobile phone from his trouser pocket, but Claudia assumed there was no reception through the heavy elevator walls as he turned and reached for the emergency telephone.
He didn’t take his eyes away from Claudia, even when the standard response finished and he cut in. ‘This is Dr Patrick Spencer, I’m in Terrace Park Towers, Wilshire Boulevard, not far from Highland. We’re somewhere between the fourth floor and street level and the elevator’s come to a halt. I have a female resident with me. Approximately thirty-four weeks pregnant.’ He paused. ‘No, no, there’s no immediate medical emergency. I have the resident seated and there’s no obvious physical injuries but I want a crew to get us out stat. And after the jolt it would be wise to send an ambulance. The patient may need to head to the hospital for a routine obstetric examination.’
With that he hung up and turned his full attention back to Claudia.
Her resolve to remain calm had deserted her, despite attempts to tell herself she was overreacting. She wasn’t overreacting. Her eyes darted to the steel doors, willing them to open, and then back to Patrick, unsure what she was willing him to do.
‘We’ll be out of here before you know it,’ he said and very gently wiped the wisps of hair from her brow, now covered in tiny beads of perspiration. ‘They’re on their way.’
‘Yes, they are... I’m afraid.’
‘There’s nothing to fear. Just stay calm and the crew will have us out of here very quickly. And there’ll be an ambulance on hand if we need one.’
‘It’s not the crew I’m talking about...it’s the babies. I’m afraid my twins are on their way... This isn’t Braxton Hicks, Patrick. I’m in labour.’
CLAUDIA’S WATER BROKE only moments later, confirming she was very much in labour and going to deliver her babies in an elevator unless a miracle happened. As she wriggled uncomfortably on the hard elevator floor with only Patrick’s now soaking wet jacket beneath her, she stared at nowhere in particular and prayed with all of her might that it was a bad dream. One from which she would wake to find herself giving birth in a pretty delivery room in a London hospital surrounded by smiling nurses...nurses just like her sister, Harriet. She always allayed Claudia’s medical concerns with sensible and thoughtful answers delivered in a calm manner, just like the way their mother had always spoken to them.
How she wished more than anything that Harriet was with her. She would know what to do. She always did...but, as Claudia looked at her surroundings from her new vantage point on the floor, she knew it was pointless to wish for her sister to be there. Or for a birthing suite. She would have neither. Harriet was in Argentina to do something selfless and wonderful and she was paying for her own irresponsible behaviour by being trapped in a Los Angeles elevator in the first stage of labour.
Giving birth to the babies of a man who didn’t give a damn.
With the help of another she didn’t know.
The next painful wave of contractions broke through her thoughts. Labour had not come on slowly or gently. And there was no point worrying about dust soiling Patrick’s jacket; the piece of clothing was now past being saved.
The jacket was of no concern to Patrick, who was kneeling beside Claudia. At that moment he would give a dozen of his finest jackets to make this woman he barely knew comfortable if only he could. But he had nothing close to a dozen of anything to make what lay ahead easier. The situation was dire. There was no way around that fact but Patrick intended to do everything to ensure Claudia remained calm and focused. All the while he fought his own battle with a past that was rushing back at him. Fine perspiration began lining his brow but he had to push through. He heard Claudia’s heavy breathing turn to panting and knew he couldn’t give in to his thoughts. Not for even a minute. He had to stay with Claudia.
For the time being at least.
‘There’s no cell reception but if I can get through on the elevator phone, who can I call? Your husband, boyfriend...your family?’
Claudia shook her head, a little embarrassed by the answer even before she delivered it. Harriet was on and off the communication grid for almost two days while she travelled and even if she could contact her it would be unfair to worry her. And she knew there was no point reaching out to the babies’ father. He wouldn’t care.
‘No, there’s no one to call.’
Patrick’s eyes met hers in silence. He was surprised and saddened to hear her answer. While she clearly had her defences up initially, Patrick had not suspected for even a moment that a woman like Claudia would be alone in the world.
Unexpectedly, he felt himself being pulled towards her. He was never pulled towards anyone. Not any more. Not for years. He had locked away the need to feel anything. To need