скачать книгу бесплатно
‘I’m so excited. I can’t wait. I hope they’re not running too late, I’m sure my bladder’s going to burst any moment.’
Claire laughed. A full bladder was required for the scan. It provided a clearer picture of the uterus and the baby within it. Patients were told to drink at least a litre of water prior to their appointment. A big ask for many pregnant women.
Luck was on Lex’s side when they were ushered in five minutes later. The radiologist, Darren, gave Lex a gown to change into.
‘How’s that baby of yours coming along, Darren? He must be six months old by now,’ Claire asked. She had looked after Darren and his wife in Labour Ward and had delivered their son.
‘Six months tomorrow. Impressive recall, Claire.’
Claire laughed. She did seem to have a photographic memory regarding the babies she had delivered. Claire was sure she could remember every baby she’d helped into the world. The moment of birth was so magical that each baby seemed to be indelibly imprinted into her memory bank. And if, occasionally, a birth did slip her mind, she only needed to refer to her scrapbook at home that had a picture and some basic information on all her deliveries. It was quite thick now, boasting over four hundred photos.
Lex rejoined them and climbed up onto the narrow bed. Darren pressed some buttons on the machine while Claire helped prepare Lex, exposing what was necessary and keeping everything else covered. Darren flicked a switch and killed the overhead lights.
‘OK. Let’s start. Goo first,’ he said, squeezing a generous daub of the warmed gel onto Lex’s tummy. A bright glow emitted from the screen and three pairs of eyes watched as the white static took form and shape as Darren applied the transducer and a twenty-week-old foetus filled the screen.
Claire took Lex’s hand as she glimpsed tears shimmering in her client’s eyes. Lex squeezed it gratefully and Claire didn’t bother to let go.
‘OK, I’m just going to check the placenta first,’ he informed Lex, running the transducer around until he found what he was looking for. ‘Good position,’ he murmured. ‘Now, we start from the head and work down. I’ll be taking various measurements as I go.’
Darren explained what he was looking at as he went methodically from head to toe. He looked at the brain and took some measurements, satisfying himself that it was the right size. He checked other brain structures and calculated the diameter of the baby’s skull.
Next he looked at the face, paying particular attention to the mouth and lips, checking for any abnormality. It was a perfect face. Two eyes, two ears, one nose. He moved down further and found two lungs and then visualised the tiny, beating heart. Satisfied there were four chambers and all associated structures were present, he pressed a button and the room filled with the noise of the baby’s strong, regular heartbeat.
‘There’s the baby’s stomach,’ Darren informed them, as he moved lower.
‘Yeah right. I’ll have to take your word for that,’ said Lex with a laugh.
Claire knew exactly how she felt. Ultrasound was a specialised field and what was obviously a stomach to Darren looked like a blob of black and white fuzzy nothing to most other people. He found the liver and kidneys as well. The spinal column was thoroughly checked to make sure it was complete.
‘All intact,’ Darren murmured, as much to himself as to Claire and Lex.
The baby was active during the procedure, allowing them a good view of everything. Ten fingers and toes were all accounted for.
‘Do you want to know the sex?’ Darren asked.
‘Can you tell?’
‘Uh-huh.’
Lex looked at Claire questioningly. Claire shrugged noncommittally.
‘I didn’t want to. We discussed it and we wanted it to be a surprise. But … oh, gosh, I can’t believe how tempted I am.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ said Darren. ‘We were tempted, too.’
‘No. Don’t tell me. Brian will kill me if I found out.’
Darren took some measurements of the baby’s thighbone next. He entered the data into his machine. With all the other measurements he’d imput, it would now calculate the growth of the baby, its weight and its precise gestation.
Claire felt tears prick her eyes at the wonder of this developing life, still only half-developed in medical terms but already a fully formed little person being nurtured and protected in the safety of the womb. She felt an ache deep inside, an emptiness that she had suppressed for years, refusing suddenly to be quelled. Watching Lex’s baby on the screen, Claire felt a yearning begin and then intensify.
What was the matter with her? Babies had been part of her working life for over a decade. When had they started to get to her like this? At twenty, after her mother’s diagnosis, Claire knew she would never allow herself to bring a baby of her own into this world. It had been difficult to come to terms with, but she’d felt she hadn’t really had a choice.
Maybe she hadn’t taken the appropriate time to grieve? For someone who loved babies as desperately as Claire did, never achieving motherhood was a real loss. Losses needed to be mourned. She should have cried, but she hadn’t. She should have railed against the fates, but she hadn’t done that either. She’d felt immensely sad but had moved on with her life. Forged a career.
Was she doing it now? Grieving? Was that what was happening to her? And why now? What had happened to trigger it? And then Campbell poked his head in the door and something deep inside her knew it was him. He was responsible for this discontent. She shut her mind to it. She didn’t want to go there.
‘Here you all are,’ he said cheerfully, closing the door behind him, along with the bright outside lights that intruded into the darkened room.
‘Campbell,’ said Lex, delight in her voice. ‘Come and look at my beautiful baby.’
Campbell did as he’d been bidden and admired the ultrasound images, oblivious to Claire’s turmoil.
‘Beautiful. Absolutely, no doubt.’
Claire raised her head to discover him staring at her. His look immobilised her. Even breathing was difficult when he looked at her with such hunger. Claire blinked rapidly to dispel the moisture that had dewed her eyes. It was too late. He’d seen it. She could see his eyes narrow with concern. Even in the gloom he was very easy to read.
‘Looks like you’re spot on, Lex,’ Darren continued. He was so focused, Claire doubted he’d even registered Campbell’s presence. Pity she couldn’t say the same for herself. ‘Twenty weeks and one day, according to the calculations.’
With the scan over, Darren flicked the lights on and Claire helped Lex down from the narrow bed. She rushed off gratefully to relieve her full bladder. Darren left the room to retrieve the video recording for Lex. Campbell, his back to the wall, watched Claire.
‘Clinic smells nice today,’ he commented casually. ‘Wattle, I believe.’
‘Yes, I thought it could do with a few humanising touches.’
He laughed and she ignored him.
‘Where will you send tomorrow’s flowers?’ he asked, amusement in his voice.
‘I was hoping you’d get the message today.’
He looked at her with a bemused expression. There would be flowers tomorrow. And the next day and the day after that … until she surrendered.
‘Pauline, our receptionist, has first dibs.’
He laughed harder and Claire was drawn to the way his hair flopped forward, almost in his eyes. He looked so little-boy endearing, she had to quell an urge to ruffle it. He wasn’t a boy and this wasn’t child’s play.
‘You can send me flowers from here to Christmas, Campbell, I won’t be changing my mind.’
‘I thought women liked receiving gifts?’
‘Well, I guess that depends on the motive of the sender.’
Lex re-entered the room, out of her gown and looking more like herself.
‘Darren’s going to leave the recording at the desk,’ Claire said.
‘Oh, fantastic. Brian was so disappointed he couldn’t be here. He’s going to be rapt when he sees it. I just hope I remember everything.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ said Claire, waving goodbye. ‘See you in a few weeks. Take care. Ring if you have any problems.’
‘You know,’ Campbell said after the door had closed behind Lex, ‘when I first arrived, I could have sworn you looked like you were about to burst into tears. For an awful moment, I thought something must have been wrong with the baby.’
Claire remained silent.
‘You looked so … stricken.’
‘I did not look stricken,’ she snapped. Had she looked that bad? Had it been that obvious?
‘Whatever.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, I was pleased just to be able to read any sort of emotion in your face.’
‘Oh, so I’m cold now?’ she asked waspishly.
‘No. You’re just … guarded. What made you that way, Sister West?’
‘Life.’
‘Why haven’t you got a couple of babies of your own?’
Campbell’s question caught her completely off guard. It hit her like a sledgehammer to the heart. She gasped and stared at him, dumbstruck. Had he seen that much? Could he have guessed the cause of her tears?
‘Maybe I don’t want any.’ Her heart pounded loudly, each beat mocking her. Liar. Liar. Liar.
‘I don’t believe that. C’mon, Claire, you’ve immersed yourself in babies for years. You don’t do that if you’re indifferent.’
‘Exactly.’ She forced a light note into her voice. ‘I’ve witnessed labour first-hand many times. I’ve seen how much it hurts. I’m not silly.’ She smiled a fake smile but Campbell was clearly unconvinced. ‘Just because I’m a midwife, that doesn’t mean I’d be a good mother.’
‘I don’t believe that either.’
‘Since when is this any of your business, anyway? How would you like it if I asked you such prying questions?’
‘Shoot.’
Claire glared at him. Typical. Trust him to call her bluff. Stubborn, exasperating man. ‘Fine. Why haven’t you had children, Campbell? Or don’t you want them either?’
‘I can’t wait to have kids,’ he said and grinned. ‘I think I’d be a fantastic dad.’
Claire had to agree with him there. He would make a great dad. She should have known he’d want children. But he wouldn’t want her children. Her children with her mutant genes.
‘So what are you waiting for?’ she asked, trying to keep a bitter edge from her voice.
‘Haven’t found the right woman yet. Well …’ He winked. ‘Until now.’
‘Argh! Campbell!’ She stalked to the door and yanked it open. The conversation in here was getting too uncomfortable.
‘I told you I was obstinate.’ Claire caught his words just as the door closed behind her and shut him out of her sight.
* * *
Obstinate was a good word, Claire acknowledged after two weeks of floral gifts. Every morning a bunch of flowers, each more exquisite than the last, greeted her. Gorgeous, expensive creations that were increasingly difficult to give away. She did, however, part with every single bloom.
The hospital grapevine was working overtime as Claire went from ward to ward, spreading her floral cheer. Somehow they’d discovered the identity of the man responsible so Claire couldn’t even pretend she didn’t know him.
‘Give in, Claire,’ said Andrea from the clinic, as Claire passed her with yet another bouquet.
‘Andrea, how long have we known each other?’
‘Eleven years.’
‘So you know I don’t date.’ Exasperation tinged her voice.
‘Claire, it’s been a long time. I know Shane hurt you but surely you’re over him by now.’
‘Of course I am.’ Claire sighed heavily, weary of having to explain her motives. ‘But that’s the thing—doesn’t he remind you of Shane? I mean, if I was going to suddenly start dating again, why would I choose someone who’s exactly like my ex?’
‘Are you crazy? He’s nothing like Shane.’
‘They both have red hair and a reputation.’
‘And that’s where the similarities end. My God, you can’t be serious! Shane’s reputation was justified. He was superficial, conceited and arrogant. He flirted with everyone, including me. He was a creep! And he wasn’t even a very good doctor.’
Claire listened to her friend in silence. ‘Why have you never told me any of this?’
‘You loved him, Claire. He could do no wrong. What would I have gained from that except maybe a ruined friendship?’
Claire absently sniffed the bouquet in her arms while she digested Andrea’s words.
‘Look, I’ve worked with Campbell a lot in Outpatients. I can tell you he has more integrity in his little finger than Shane had in his entire body. And he’s a fantastic obstetrician. Don’t judge him by Shane’s standards. Do yourself a favour … cut him a break.’
‘No point,’ Claire said, straightening her back and hardening her heart, ignoring the truth in Andrea’s words. ‘I don’t date. No exceptions.’
Andrea’s words gave Claire food for thought as she went on her way. Maybe comparing Campbell and Shane had been doing Campbell a disservice. So they both had red hair—a minor superficial physical resemblance. Apart from that, they really were nothing alike.
Claire had to admit Andrea’s description of Shane’s character was more than accurate and despite keeping her distance from him, Claire knew enough about Campbell to know that his red hair was where his likeness with Shane ended. And he was definitely, no contest, a much better doctor.
But, Claire reminded herself sharply, whether he looked like her ex-fiancé or not was immaterial. There were other reasons to keep her distance. Much more serious ones. The fact that his appearance had stirred up some long forgotten wounds helped make it all the easier to stay away.
If only the rest of the hospital staff would make it just as easy. Instead, Campbell was fast gaining notoriety throughout St Jude’s as the underdog. Claire had become the tyrant! Poor brave Campbell pitted against Big Bad Claire who rebuffed him heartlessly, rejecting his expensive romantic gestures. She’d even heard that one ward was running a sweep on who would win the battle.
Claire detested being the subject of gossip. Heaven knew, she’d spent most of her working life at St Jude’s being a curiosity. Who? Claire West? Oh, the one who doesn’t date? I hear she’s a lesbian. And on and on. Nonetheless, every bunch of flowers hardened her resolve. Let them talk. A relationship with Campbell was out of the question.
Campbell was conspicuous by his absence. But she knew his game. His strategy was to keep a low profile and let his gifts work their magic. He was hoping she’d be so overwhelmed and flattered she’d be begging for a date. Well, she was on to him and it wasn’t going to work.
However, when flowers arrived on the Friday of the second week, Claire knew she had to protest. She dialled his room number, knowing he did a clinic at this time.
‘Campbell Deane.’ His voice was warm and sexy, and Claire gripped the receiver as her heart tripped. How could a voice affect her in such a way?
‘Stop it, Campbell. No more flowers.’
