narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I’m not that hopeless, Oliver.’
And then the penny dropped. She obviously worried that people thought she was less than capable because of her dyslexia. Maybe in the past people had treated her as if she was stupid; that would explain why she’d overreacted to him buying the folic acid, because it had made her feel that he thought she was stupid.
‘You’re not hopeless at all, but you look tired,’ he said, ‘and filling in forms is a hassle even if you don’t have to struggle with dyslexia as well.’ He remembered what Ella’s tutor said in her reference: ignore the exam results because Ella was an excellent midwife and could always tell you every last detail of a case. It just took her a lot longer than most to write it up. The exams must’ve been a real struggle for her, even if she’d been given extra time or the help of a scribe during the papers. And yet she’d never once given up. ‘You could always dictate it to me and I’ll type it up for you,’ he suggested.
She narrowed her eyes even further. ‘Would you make the same offer to anyone else on your team?’
She was worried about him showing favouritism towards her because of the baby? ‘Actually, yes, I would,’ he said. ‘That’s the point. We’re a team, at Teddy’s. And I’m responsible for my team’s well-being. Which includes you.’ He pulled up a chair next to her, brought the keyboard in front of him and angled the screen so they could both see it. ‘Right. Tell me what to type.’
Again she looked wary, and he thought she was going to argue with him; but then she nodded and dictated everything to him. Just as he’d expected, she was meticulous and accurate.
‘Thank you,’ she said when he’d finished typing.
‘Any time. You know your stuff and you pay attention to our mums, so you made that really easy for me.’ But she looked so tired, almost forlorn, and it worried him. He wanted to make things better. Now. He gave in to the impulse and rested his palm against her cheek. ‘Tell me what you need.’
‘Need?’
Her pupils were suddenly huge and his mouth went dry. Was she going to say that she needed him? Because, right now, he needed her, too. Wanted to hold her. Wanted to kiss her.
When she said nothing, he rubbed his thumb lightly against her skin. ‘Cup of tea? Sandwich? Because I’m guessing the staff kitchen is a no-go area for you right now.’
‘I’d love a cup of tea,’ she admitted. ‘And a sandwich. Anything really, really bland.’
‘Give me five minutes,’ he said. ‘And, for the record, I’m not trying to be bossy. You’ve had a busy shift with a tough delivery, and I bet you haven’t had the chance of a break today. I want to be there for you and our baby, Ella.’
He’d said the magic word, Ella thought as she watched Oliver leave the office. ‘Our’, not ‘my’. So maybe she wasn’t going to have to fight him for her independence.
He came back with the perfect cup of tea, a cheese sandwich and an apple that he’d cored and sliced for her. Ella felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh, Oliver.’
‘Don’t cry.’
But she couldn’t stop the tears spilling over. He wrapped his arms round her, holding her close and making her feel cherished and protected, and that only made her want to cry more.
Hormones, that was all it was. And if someone came into the office and saw them, people might start to talk. Although Ella dearly wanted to stay in his arms, she wriggled free. ‘Oliver. People are going to start gossiping if they see us like this.’
‘No—they’ll think you’re tired after a long shift, and I’m doing exactly what I would for any colleague. Being supportive.’
‘I guess.’ She paused. ‘I’ve got an appointment through for the scan.’
He went very still. ‘Are you asking me to come with you?’
‘If you want to.’
There was a brief flash of hunger in his eyes. Did that mean he wanted to be there, or did he think it was his duty? She didn’t have a clue how he felt about her, and she wasn’t ready to ask—just in case the answer was that he saw it as his duty.
‘But if anyone asks why, it’s because you’re supporting your colleague,’ she said. ‘I’m not ready for the world to know about—well.’ She shrugged. There wasn’t an ‘us’. What should she call it? A fling? A mistake? The most stupid thing she’d ever done in her life?
And yet the end result had been something she’d always thought was beyond her reach. The most precious gift of all. Something that made her heart sing every time she thought about the baby.
‘Noted,’ he said, his voice expressionless. ‘What time?’
‘Eleven.’
‘I’ll be there,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to meet you in the waiting area outside the ultrasound room, or here?’
‘I think the waiting area would be best.’ If they went together from here, their colleagues were bound to start speculating, and she really didn’t want that. Not until she knew what was really happening between her and Oliver.
‘All right.’
‘I guess I’d better finish writing up my notes,’ she said. ‘And then I want to check on Sophie—the mum—to see how she and the baby are doing. And I promised to give a hand with putting up the Christmas decorations in the reception area.’
‘I’ll let you get on, then.’ For a moment, he looked as if he was going to say something else. Then he shook his head as if he’d changed his mind. ‘I’ll catch you later.’
THE NEXT MORNING, Ella woke with butterflies in her stomach. The pregnancy test she’d taken had been positive; but as a midwife she knew that there were all manner of things that could go wrong over the next few weeks. One in four pregnancies ended in a miscarriage. And would the scarring in her Fallopian tubes have caused a problem with the baby?
She managed to force down a slice of toast and was sitting in the waiting room outside the ultrasound suite at five minutes to eleven, having drunk the requested one litre of water. There were Christmas cards pinned on the cork board in the reception area, and some of the tables had been moved to make way for a tree. All the couples sitting in the waiting room now were clearly looking forward to the following Christmas: the first Christmas with their new baby. Right now, Ella didn’t know if she and the baby would still be here in Cheltenham with Oliver, or whether they’d be back in Ireland with her family, and it made her feel slightly melancholy.
Would Oliver be on time for the appointment? Or would he need to be in with a patient and have to miss the scan?
She reminded herself that it didn’t matter if he couldn’t be there; she could manage this perfectly well on her own. She tried to flick through one of the magazines left on the table to distract people who were waiting, but the paper was too shiny for her to be able to read the words easily.
And that was another worry: would her baby inherit her dyslexia? Ella knew that a daughter would have a one in four chance of inheriting the condition, and a son would have a three in four chance. She hated the idea that she could’ve passed on something that would cause her child difficulties in the future; though at least she was aware of what to look out for, so if necessary she’d be able to get help for her child much earlier than she’d received help, and her child wouldn’t go through most of his or her education feeling as clumsy and stupid as Ella had.
She’d just put the magazine back on the table