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It hadn’t been a complete bombshell, Louise had known things hadn’t been right, but when it had finally dropped Louise had been inconsolable. Rory had put his hands up in the end and had said that, as much as he liked her, there wasn’t enough there to be talking baby, baby, baby every day of the week.
They were far better as exes than as a couple.
‘How’s Christmas behaving?’ Rory asked, as they danced.
‘Much better this time.’
‘You look so much happier.’
‘I’m sorry we stopped being friends,’ Louise said.
‘We never stopped being friends,’ Rory said. ‘Well, I didn’t. I was so worried when you were with him.’
‘I know,’ Louise said. ‘Thanks for being there for me.’ She gave him a smile. ‘I might have some happy news soon.’
‘What are you up to, Louise?’
‘I’m going to be trying for a baby,’ Louise admitted, ‘by myself.’
‘How did I not guess that?’ Rory smiled.
‘Please don’t ask me if I’ve thought about it.’
‘I wouldn’t. I know that it’s all you think about.’
‘It’s got worse since I’ve gone back to midwifery,’ Louise said. ‘My fallopian tubes want to reach out and steal all the little babies.’
‘It might end any chance of things between you and Anton,’ Rory said gently, but Louise just shrugged.
‘He’s the last person I’d go out with, he’s way too controlling and moody for my taste. I just wanted a loan of that body for a night or two.’ Louise smiled. ‘Nope … She had made up her mind. In the three years since she and Rory had broken up she had made some poor choices when it came to men. The news that she might have issues getting pregnant had seriously rocked Louise’s world, leaving her a touch vulnerable and exposed. She was so much stronger now, though her desire to become a mother had not diminished an inch. ‘I want a baby far more than I want another failed relationship.’
‘Fair enough.’
They danced on, Louise with her mind on Anton. She was seriously annoyed at the sight of them laughing and talking as they danced and the way Saffarella ran her hands through his hair and over his bum had Louise burn with jealousy. Worse, though, was the way Anton laughed a deep laugh at something she must have said.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh till now, and I know that I’m funnier than her,’ Louise grumbled. ‘God, why does she have to be so, so beautiful? What did he introduce her as?’
‘Saffarella.’
‘Did he say girlfriend when he introduced her?’ Louise pushed. ‘Or my wife …?’ She was clutching at straws as she remembered that his sister was a model. ‘It’s not his sister, is it?’
‘If it’s his sister then we should consider calling the police!’ Rory said. ‘Sorry, Louise, they’re on together.’
But then a little while later came the good news!
She and Rory were enjoying another dance, imagining things that could never happen to John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’. Louise was thinking of Anton while Rory was thinking of a woman who couldn’t be here tonight. He glanced up and saw that Anton was watching them, and then Anton looked over again.
‘Anton keeps looking over,’ Rory whispered in Louise’s ear.
‘Really?’
‘He does,’ Rory said. ‘I don’t think he likes me any more—in fact, I’d say from the look I just got he wants to take me out the back and knock my lights out.’
‘Seriously?’ Louise was delighted at the turn of events.
‘Well, not quite that much, but I think you may be be right, Louise, Anton does like you.’
‘I told you that he did. Is he still looking?’
‘He’s trying not to.’
‘You have to kiss me,’ Louise said.
‘No.’
‘Please.’ Louise was insistent. ‘Just one long one—it will serve him bloody right for trying to make me jealous. Come on, Rory,’ she said when, instead of kissing her, he still shook his head. ‘It’s not like we never have before and I do it all the time when I’m modelling. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘No,’ Rory said.
‘I got off with you a couple of years ago when Gina got drunk and was making a play for you!’ Louise reminded him.
Gina was an anaesthetist who had had a drink and drug problem and had gone into treatment a few months ago. A couple of years back Rory had been trying to avoid Gina at a Christmas party. Gina had tended to make blatant plays for him when drunk, so he and Louise had had a kiss and pretended to leave together.
‘Come on, Rory.’
‘No,’ he said, and then he rolled his eyes and reluctantly admitted the reason why not. ‘I like someone.’
‘Who?’ Louise’s curiosity was instant.
‘Just someone.’
‘Is she here?’
‘No,’ Rory said. ‘But I don’t want it getting back to her that I got off with my ex.’
‘Do I know her?’
‘Leave it, Louise,’ Rory said. ‘Please.’
It really was turning out to be the most frustrating night! First Anton and Saffarella, now Rory with his secret.
Hugh and Emily watched the action from the safety of the tables, trying to work out just what was going on.
‘Anton is holding Saffarella like a police riot shield,’ Hugh observed, but Emily laughed just a little too late.
‘Are you okay?’ Hugh checked, looking at his wife, who, all of a sudden, was unusually quiet.
‘I’m a bit tired,’ Emily admitted.
‘Do you want to go home?’ Hugh checked, and Emily nodded. ‘But I promised Louise a lift.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Hugh said, standing as Louise and Rory made their way over from the dance floor. ‘We’re going to go,’ Hugh said. ‘Emily’s a bit tired.’
‘Emily?’ Louise frowned as she looked at her friend. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Can I not just be tired?’ Emily snapped, and then corrected herself. ‘Sorry, Louise. Look, I know that I said I’d give you a lift—’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Louise interrupted. ‘Go home to bed.’
‘I’ll see Louise home,’ Rory said, and Hugh gave a nod of thanks.
They said their goodnights but as Hugh and Emily walked off, Rory could see the concern on Louise’s face.
‘Louise!’ Rory knew what she was thinking and dismissed it. ‘Emily’s fine. It isn’t any wonder that she’s feeling tired. She’s six months pregnant and working. Theatre was really busy today …’
‘I guess, but …’ Louise didn’t know what to say. Rory didn’t really get her intuition where pregnant women were concerned. She wasn’t about to explain it to him again but he’d already guessed what she was thinking.
‘Not your witch thing again?’ Rory sighed.
‘Midwives know.’ Louise nodded. ‘I’m honestly worried.’
‘Come on, I’ll get you a drink,’ Rory said. ‘You can have two eggnogs.’ But Louise shook her head. ‘I just want to go home,’ she admitted. ‘You stay, I can get a taxi.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Rory said, and, not thinking, he put his arm around her and they headed out, followed by the very disapproving eyes of Anton.
Rory dropped her home and, though tired, Louise couldn’t sleep. She looked at the crib, still wrapped in Cellophane, that she had hidden in her room, in case Emily dropped round. It was a present Louise had bought. It was stunning and better still it had been on sale. Louise had chosen not to say anything to Emily, knowing how superstitious first-time mums were about not getting anything in advance.
Emily had already been through an appendectomy at six weeks’ gestation, as well as marrying Hugh and sorting out stuff with her difficult family. She was due to finish working in the New Year and finally relax and enjoy the last few weeks of pregnancy.
Louise lay there fretting, trying to tell herself that this time she was wrong.
It was very hard to understand let alone explain it but Emily had had that look that Louise knew too well.
Please, no!
It really was too soon.
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf4ef54a2-2681-506d-ba72-7239917834a4)
ANTON WAS RARELY uncomfortable with women.
Even the most beautiful ones.
He and Saffarella went back a long way, in a very loose way. They had met through his sister a couple of years ago and saw each other now and then. He had known that she would be in London over Christmas and Saffarella had, in fact, been the date he had planned to take to the maternity Christmas evening.
‘Where are we going?’ Saffarella frowned, because she clearly thought they were going back to his apartment but instead they had turned the opposite way.
‘I thought I might take you back to the hotel,’ Anton said.
‘And are you coming in?’ Saffarella asked, and gave a slightly derisive snort at Anton’s lack of response. ‘I guess that means, no, you’re not.’
‘It’s been a long day …’ Anton attempted, but Saffarella knew very well the terms of their friendship and it was this part of the night that she had been most looking forward to and she argued her case in loud Italian.
‘Don’t give me that, Anton. Since when have you ever been too tired? I saw you looking at that blonde tart …’
‘Hey!’ Anton warned, but his instant defence of Louise, combined with the fact that they both knew just who he was referring to, confirmed that Anton’s mind had been elsewhere tonight. Saffarella chose to twist the knife as they pulled into the hotel. ‘I doubt that she’s being dropped off home by that Rory. They couldn’t even wait for the night to finish to get out of the place.’ When the doorman opened the door for her Saffarella got out of the car. ‘Don’t you ever do that to me again.’ She didn’t wait for the doorman, instead slamming the door closed.
Anton copped it because he knew that he deserved it.
His intention had never been to use Saffarella, they were actually good together. Or had been. Occasionally.
Anton had never, till now, properly considered just how attracted he really was to Louise. Oh, she was the reason he had called Saffarella and asked if she was free tonight, and Saffarella had certainly used him in the same way at times.
But it wasn’t just the ache of his physical attraction to Louise that was the problem. He liked her. A lot. He liked her humour, her flirting, the way she just openly declared whatever was on her mind, not that he’d ever tell her that.
But knowing she was on with Rory, knowing he had taken her home, meant that Anton just wanted to be alone tonight to sulk.
It’s your own fault, Anton, he said to himself as he drove home.
He should have asked Louise out months ago but then he reminded himself of the reason he hadn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t be getting involved with anyone from work ever again.
Approaching four years ago, Christmas Day had suddenly turned into a living nightmare. Telling parents on Christmas Day that their newborn baby was going to die was hell at the best of times.
But at the worst of times, telling parents, while knowing that the death could have been avoided, was a hell which Anton could not yet escape from and he returned to the nightmare time and again.
The shouts and the accusations from Alberto’s father, Anton could still hear some nights before going to sleep.
The coroner’s report had pointed to a string of communication errors but found that it had been no one person’s fault in particular. Anton could recite it off by heart, because he had gone over and over and over it, trying to see what he could have done differently.
But the year in the between the death and the coroner’s report had been one Anton could rarely stand to recall.
He took his foot off the brake as he realised he was speeding and pulled over for a moment because he could not safely think about that time and drive.
His relationship hadn’t survived either. Dahnya, his girlfriend at the time, had been one of the midwives on duty that Christmas morning and when she hadn’t called him, the continual excuses she had made instead of accepting her part in the matter, had proved far too much for them.
Friends and colleagues had all been injected with the poison of gossip. Everyone had raced to cover their backs by stabbing others in theirs and the once close, supportive unit he had been a part of had turned into a war zone.
Anton had been angry too.
Furious.
He had raged when he had seen that information had not been passed on to him. Information that would have meant he would have come to see and then got the labouring mother into Theatre far sooner than he had.
The magic had gone from obstetrics and even before the coroner’s findings had been in, Anton had moved into reproductive endocrinology, immersing himself in it, honing his skills, concentrating on the maths and conundrum of infertility. It had absorbed him and he had enjoyed it, especially the good times—when a woman who had thought she never would get pregnant finally did, and yet more and more he had missed obstetrics.
To go back to it, Anton had known he would need a completely fresh start, for he no longer trusted his old colleagues. He had come to London and really had done his best to put things behind him.
It was not so easy, though, and he was aware that he tended to take over. He sat there and thought about his first emergency Caesarean at The Royal. Louise just so brisk and efficient and completely in sync with him as they’d fought to get the deteriorating baby out.
