was no heartbeat. We had lost our baby.’
Robina swallowed the lump in her throat. She also recognised the terrible feeling of loss; even though her baby had been no more than a few centimetres in length. A baby was no less mourned because it was only a tiny embryo.
‘C’mon,’ Sally said gently. ‘Let’s get you scanned. I think you’ve waited long enough for this moment.’
A few minutes later, Annette lay on the bed looking even paler and on the verge of tears. She’s expecting bad news, Robina thought. It’s written all over her face. Or at least she’s preparing herself for the worst.
The room was deathly silent as Sally ran her probe over Annette’s abdomen. Annette clutched Mike’s hand as if he were a life-raft and if she let go, she would drown.
But a few minutes later a huge smile spread across Sally’s face. ‘A clear, strong heartbeat.’ She swivelled the monitor so the couple could see. ‘See just there.’
Robina craned her neck to see where she was pointing and, sure enough, the steady movement of a heartbeat flickered on the screen.
‘Are you sure?’ Annette whispered.
‘One hundred per cent. You can relax, we’ve got an ongoing pregnancy.’
Annette burst into gut-wrenching sobs and her husband gathered her into his arms. ‘I can’t believe it,’ Annette hiccupped once she had regained her composure. ‘We’re going to have a baby. Thank you, oh, thank you.’
‘Congratulations,’ Robina said. ‘I’m so happy for you both.’ With a bit of luck, in a few months’ time this couple would be holding a much longed-for baby in their arms. Robina’s throat tightened and she knew that tears weren’t far away. Annette’s story had brought too many painful memories flooding back.
Leaving the ecstatic couple with Sally, Robina found the staff in Reception gathered around a woman who was proudly showing off a baby, who, judging by its size, was somewhere around two to three months old.
‘Isn’t he just gorgeous?’ Linda was saying. She noticed Robina. ‘Dr Zondi, come meet our latest arrival, little Matthew.’
She held out the baby and, before Robina could protest, handed her the tiny bundle as everyone looked on. For a second Robina’s heart froze. She hadn’t seen, much less held, a baby since her miscarriage. Now she had no choice but to accept the infant.
John was filming, his camera trained on her face. He was one of the few people who knew about the miscarriage, but the thought probably hadn’t entered his male head that she would find cuddling a baby difficult. She forced herself to look down at the tiny bundle she held in her arms. His eyes were closed, and impossibly long lashes fanned plump cheeks. She inhaled the baby smell of him and the numbness in her throat spread into her chest, making her feel as if she could hardly breathe. If her baby had lived, she would be due about now. Don’t let me cry, she thought. Don’t let anyone speak to me, cos there is no way I could force any words past my throat.
She glanced up and over the heads of the nursing staff and saw Niall watching her intently. Without a word, he crossed the room and gently took the baby from her arms.
‘Ah, let me see,’ he said, holding the baby as if he’d had years of practice, which, of course, he had. ‘What a fine-looking lad. You must be very proud of him.’
Robina backed away as Niall diverted attention away from her. She was shaking and desperately needed some time on her own to compose herself. Mumbling something about the Ladies’ to no one in particular, she walked as steadily as she could, on legs that had turned to mush, towards the bathroom.
Inside, she slumped to the floor and laid her head on her knees, taking deep, gulping breaths. Her hands were still shaking and she could feel the pressure of tears behind her eyes. It should be her, holding her baby. She caught her breath as a fresh wave of grief washed over her. She couldn’t break down, not here. She needed to regain her composure before she went back out. Maybe Niall was right and she should never have agreed to this programme. She was still too raw, too vulnerable. Thank God, he had seen how close she had been back there to losing it, and had rescued her. How on earth was she going to manage weeks of this? Especially if every time she saw a baby, she thought she would disappear inside herself from the pain of it?
But it was too late for second thoughts. She had made a commitment and she never backed out of anything, regardless of the personal cost. Somehow, although she didn’t know how, she would have to lock her feelings back down, deep inside. It was the only way she could continue. She had done it before, and she could do it again. Couldn’t she?
NIALL sat across the desk from Mr and Mrs Thomas trying, but not quite succeeding, to ignore the cameras. After studying the financial projections, he had been forced to agree with Lucinda. The clinic needed to attract extra funding. So he had agreed to the documentary, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. And to add to his discomfort, Real Life Productions had insisted that Niall, given his international reputation, be the one to appear on camera. Mark, the third doctor, and Elaine had made no secret of their relief that they wouldn’t have to.
‘You’re used to appearing in public,’ they had teased. ‘God knows, your picture has appeared in the press often enough recently.’
They were right, but only because the press wanted pictures of Dr Zondi and her husband, out together and still very much in love. The press hadn’t a clue, Niall thought bitterly, and it was just as well. The thought of having his personal life discussed in the papers made him squirm.
Robina had chosen an unobtrusive spot, just to the left of his patients. She was looking drawn, Niall thought with a stab of anxiety. Holding that baby had hurt—she had put her professional face back on, but the way she was nibbling her lip told him she was struggling to hold it together. Damn it! He should never have agreed to this project. Never mind about the finances of the unit, they would manage somehow—but would Robina? He didn’t care what she had said about being able to cope—she was more affected than she’d imagined she’d be. But the woman was stubborn. He knew that to his cost. He dragged his thoughts away from his wife, concentrating on the anxious man and woman in front of him.
Mrs Thomas, Eilidh, was 38, and her husband already had a child by a previous marriage. Either of these reasons on their own made them ineligible for NHS treatment.
‘We only met a year ago,’ Eilidh was saying with a fond look at her husband Jim. ‘I had more or less given up on meeting the man of my dreams. Then he walked into the room and, bam—just like that. We fell in love.’
Niall couldn’t stop himself from sliding another glance at his wife. He knew exactly what Eilidh was talking about.
But if the same thought occurred to Robina there was no sign of it. In the last few moments she seemed to have managed to get her emotions under control. Cool, calm Dr Zondi was back, and she was concentrating intently on what Eilidh was saying.
‘We started trying for a family…when was it, love?’ Eilidh turned to Jim for confirmation. ‘About six months ago. I know it isn’t long, but my GP thought that, given my age, we shouldn’t wait before we sought expert advice. So here we are.’
She’s anxious, Niall thought as Eilidh chewed on her thumbnail. But then again, almost everyone who ever sat in that chair was nervous. They came to him filled with their hopes and dreams, hoping that he’d be able to work some magic that would give them the child they so desperately longed for. And most of the time he did. But not always. However, he knew there was a good chance he could help the hopeful couple in front of him.
‘I have the results of your tests here,’ he said.
Eilidh gripped Jim’s hands and chewed more fiercely on the thumbnail of her free hand.
‘Bill’s