The Midwife And The Single Dad (15 page)

Did she think he might change his mind? Was there still hope for her? Was that why he had asked her to wait for a fortnight before writing to the trust? She thought not. Ben had always been capable of making up his own mind. He didn’t make important decisions lightly, but when he did he stuck by them. Alice remembered how she had felt about men when she’d come to Soalay, how she’d been so determined never to let a man into her life again. She should have been like Ben and stuck to her decision.

But now it was time to get up. She had a job to do.

H
ER
day was quiet, which surprised her. She carried on with her ordinary work. It seemed odd that everything was so normal when her life had changed so radically the night before. And it had changed, she knew that. A set of half-realised hopes and dreams had been blown away, like the early morning mist on the mountaintops behind her. It would be a different life from now on. But that life had to go on.

At lunchtime there was something that she knew she had to do. She phoned Ben and asked if she could come over, there were a couple of things they had to consider. There was a child she wanted him to go out and visit and the suggestion of a talk to the pregnant mothers’ group.

‘Sure, come straight over,’ Ben said. After a moment’s hesitation he added, ‘Have you time for a quick coffee?’

‘I’d love one. But it’ll really have to be quick. I’ve got a lot on this afternoon.’ She didn’t add that she didn’t know just how long she could bear to be near him and pretend that nothing had happened.

But she knew that for a while she would have to
work with him, have to be near him. Better get the first meeting over quickly. So she went over and they discussed problems like the old friends and colleagues that they were. Nothing was said about the night before—though she could detect wariness in his eyes. Well, they could manage like this. They could talk to each other when it was necessary.

She didn’t see him at all over the next two days. Sometimes it happened like this and they were never at the same place at the same time. And sometimes they never seemed to stop bumping into each other. But now…two days… Was he deliberately avoiding her? She didn’t think so. Anyway, perhaps it was a good thing not to see too much of him, perhaps not necessary to see him. And the moment she thought this she knew what rubbish it was. If anything, she now missed him more than ever.

On the third day the weather matched her mood. Dark skies in the early morning, the first expected rattle of rain soon after that. And it went on and on. Just steady, unremitting rain. It wasn’t a storm, there was no wind. But it seemed as if it would rain for ever. Well this was Soalay weather. It had happened before.

Alice had a clinic that afternoon but few people turned up. This was a day for staying at home and hoping that things would be better in the morning. Besides, the roads were impossible to walk down, the water overran the gutters, flooded across the pavements. Alice tidied her work room, caught up on her paperwork, stared dully out of the windows.

In the middle of the afternoon, a bit of excitement—
a message from Ben by way of his receptionist to hers. He would be out at the far, hilly side of the island for most of the rest of the day. He had been called to an accident. A car had skidded into a ravine and three people were badly injured. His surgery was cancelled. Alice shivered.

So, a dreary day with little to do. Perhaps tomorrow would be better, she’d have an early night and… She should have known better. Her phone rang.

A male voice, anxious, almost panicking. ‘Midwife Muir? This is Malcolm Reay—you know, husband of Eleanor Reay over on Calvay Island? You’ve got to come, Eleanor has had a fall and she thinks the baby’s coming. I can’t bring her ’cos my car’s at the garage and there’s nobody here in the other cottages.’

‘Malcolm! Calm down. First of all, how badly is Eleanor hurt?’

‘She slipped on the front step in the rain. Her chest is bruised and she’s cut her head. But she was shocked and that seems to have started things off early.’

‘Why exactly does she think the baby’s coming? Go and ask her.’

She heard muttering for a moment and then Malcolm returned and said, ‘The waters have broken. And she’s getting contractions.’

‘Time them. How far apart are they?’

More mumbling, then, ‘She says they’re every ten minutes.’

‘Right. Now, is she losing blood?’

‘No. Well, just from her head. And she says that she
doesn’t think she hurt the baby when she fell. It was just the shock of the fall that started it.’

‘Right, that should give us some time. I’ll set off now. Until then, keep her warm and comfortable. You know how to treat people for shock?’

‘I know how to treat people for shock. I’ve been on a good first-aid course for men who work at sea. But it didn’t cover delivering babies.’

‘Just tell her you love her. That’ll help no end. And I’m on my way.’

Alice stood a minute in thought. Eleanor Reay was now in week thirty-six—a four-week premature birth wasn’t ideal but shouldn’t present any real problems. And Eleanor had been a good mother-to-be, was strong, had shown no signs of any problems. It had only been a week since Alice had last visited her and had been enraptured by the new pictures Eleanor had drawn.

If there was time and she thought it possible, she would bring Eleanor back to the birthing unit. If it wasn’t possible then Eleanor would have her home birth. Alice always had a full kit in her car, no problem there. All she needed to collect was her own wet-weather gear.

She phoned Ben’s surgery number, left a message on his answering-machine, trying to keep her voice neutral. ‘Hi, Ben, Alice here. It’s half past six, I’m driving over to Calvay Island. Eleanor Reay has had a fall and gone into labour early. I might have to deliver at her home. I’ve got my mobile with me, if there are any problems I’ll phone you. In fact, I’ll report progress anyway. But don’t worry, I don’t expect any trouble. I’ll probably be there overnight. Bye.’ That should do, she thought.

Then she set off. They were the worst driving conditions she had ever been out in—worse even than when she and Ben had nearly fallen off the bridge into the stream. And then Ben had been driving. Now it was her turn. The one consolation was that there were few other vehicles on the roads. Everyone else had more sense.

Water was streaming across the road and her front wheels sent two great waves curving away on each side. She was glad of the height of her vehicle, glad of the four-wheel-drive. But she didn’t feel safe and she didn’t feel happy. She wished she hadn’t had to come out.

As she got further into the countryside, the conditions got worse. Memories of her childhood crash came back to her, of being underwater. She sobbed quietly.

She didn’t want to be out on her own, in weather like this. She wanted to be back in her own clinic. Perhaps Eleanor was really OK and she could come out in the morning. Stop thinking that way!

This could be much, much worse. Take things easy and all would be well. She pressed on.

And then she got to the causeway across to Calvay Island. And she realised what she had been doing. Somehow she had stopped herself thinking, had hidden the knowledge that this would be the worst, the most dangerous bit of the journey. But now she knew it. It was obvious.

She braked, stopped, looked through the greyness of the rain. It was high tide. And what made it worse was that the channel was narrow, and the rainwater and the streams feeding onto the channel had made the tide even higher. Waves were breaking right over the causeway.
And some of the causeway seemed to have crumbled and slipped in the sea! She couldn’t cross this!

She’d have to wait. Perhaps go and find someone to take her across, someone with a better vehicle, who had more experience, who knew what they were doing. But as she looked she knew that was impossible. There was no one near. And Eleanor couldn’t wait. And this was a first birth, it couldn’t be handled by Malcolm. Eleanor needed a midwife, someone who knew what she was doing. Alice had to try to get across.

Sobbing, she let the car inch forward. Slowly, very slowly. It was hard because with the water washing across the narrow surface it was often almost impossible to see what was causeway and what was the sea. Once or twice she felt the wheels lose traction, felt the car slip to the side, but somehow she managed to correct it. She was getting there. She was progressing.

And eventually she was nearly there. She could see the road rising out of the water. Only a few more yards. Once there she’d be safe… Perhaps her concentration lapsed at the thought of safety. There was a thump as a wave hit the car. It seemed to shudder and she was skidding, slipping, sliding! The car was going to roll, it was turning on its side! Alice screamed with terror as her body was jerked painfully by her safety belt. For a moment she was a little girl of twelve again. She felt rather than heard the glass on her side window smash, and water poured into the car. She was cold, she was wet! She was going to drown, to die!

Vaguely she was aware of the car being pushed along on its side, she could hear or feel the grinding sound of
it on the sea floor. Her head was nearly underwater and as she tried to scream again it splashed into her mouth so she coughed and was nearly sick. She was struggling but she couldn’t move.

She had heard the old wives’ tale that when you were about to die, your past life flashed through your mind. It didn’t. But there was a vision that came back with astounding clarity. Perhaps the fear of impending death brought it on.

She had been working in an A and E department. She had attended a lecture given by a military doctor who had been on the front line of half a dozen of the nasty little wars that Britain somehow seemed to get involved in. For a moment, suspended in time, Alice could see and hear the man.

If you’re in a bad situation and you panic, you triple
the chances of dying. I once had to evacuate two dead
soldiers who had been sheltering in an enemy house
when it was hit by a shell and caught fire. Both ran to
the nearest door, tried to open it. It was locked. They
died desperately trying to kick the door down
.

The doctor had paused, taken a drink of water. Then he’d gone on,
The door wasn’t locked. They didn’t
realise it opened towards them. So—because they
panicked—they died
.

Alice could remember the shock, the shiver of horror that had gone through the audience. So she wouldn’t panic! Now, why was she drowning? Why was she not able to move? It was obvious! She reached down to her side and unfastened her safety belt. Then she pulled herself half-upright by clinging to the passenger seat.

She took a great breath, coughed and choked a moment, spat sea water out of her mouth. There was air here—and some light. She was not yet dead, there was hope.

Then she realised that the Land Rover had stopped grating along the seabed—and half of it wasn’t under water. She wriggled a bit, managed to stand on what had been her door—and reached up to the passenger door. She unlocked it, threw it back. Then she hoisted herself upwards—and the top half of her body was out in the rain.

The car was now still. It had beached in a little cove, some distance from the causeway. Water was rushing past it but she thought if she got out she could scramble ashore. She started to climb out, ignoring the scratches, the bruises. She was going to survive!

Then she thought. She was here to do a job. She muttered a quick prayer. Slid back into the half-water-filled car. She somehow negotiated her way to the back, grabbed the three bags she knew that she was most likely to need. It was agonising—wriggling, bending, pulling—but she managed to coax them out. And all the time there was the fear that the water might suddenly get stronger, drag the Land Rover into the current and drown her.

But it didn’t. She leaned out of the opened door and threw the bags one by one onto the little beach. Then she slid down the side of the vehicle and was up to her waist in water. The passing water plucked at her but she managed to wade ashore.

She was wet through, chilled to the bone, bruised, cut and battered. She calculated that she was a mile from her patient and no one knew where she was. Well, she’d have to do what she could. She felt in her pocket for her
mobile. It might be wet but it could work. Not a chance—it must have been smashed when the car had rolled over.

Three bags on shore. She stuffed two under a rock and picked up the most important one. Then she set off to walk to Eleanor’s cottage. She had a baby to deliver.

‘Look at the state of you! Are you all right? Have you had an accident?’ Malcolm was at the cottage door, mouth and eyes wide open.

‘Yes, I’ve had an accident.’ Alice walked past him, talking as she moved. ‘I want a quick five minutes with Eleanor and then I’ll need to borrow some clothes from her. And if I could have a bath, I think that would be a good idea. Oh, and, Malcolm. A hot drink would be welcome.’ Nothing like getting your priorities right, she thought.

She knew where to go and went straight to the ground-floor bedroom where Eleanor was to give birth. She was aware that a dripping-wet midwife wasn’t exactly ideal but she wanted a swift preliminary look before taking time to look after herself. However, the first glance told her that Eleanor was not yet in any desperate state. ‘How are you, Eleanor?’

‘I seem to be better than you,’ Eleanor said. ‘At the moment I’m uncomfortable but not in any great pain. The contractions are getting closer together. But I can wait till you’re in a fit state to be a proper midwife. And then you can tell me what happened.’

She pointed across the bedroom. ‘Underwear in the top drawer. In that wardrobe you’ll find a top and a pair
of slacks that should just fit. And there’s some slippers there, too. Malcolm!’ she shouted.

Malcolm appeared at the door. ‘Run the bath, find a couple of towels. Make the midwife a mug of tea and a sandwich. Oh, and get her a dram—just a wee one.’

‘Right,’ said Malcolm. He had recognised that whoever was in charge here, it wasn’t him.

Alice hesitated. She didn’t like leaving her patient but she knew she’d do a better job when she was clean and warm and dry. No way did she want to examine someone when she was wet through and coated with sand. So she said, ‘Scream if you need me. I’ll be as quick as I can.’ She seized clothes from where she had been directed, headed towards the sound of running water.

She undressed in the bathroom, threw her sodden clothes into a basket. She scanned her naked body. She hadn’t realised just how badly bruised and scratched she was. Still, it may be painful but it was only minor stuff. Adrenaline still coursed through her body so she could cope. Later, she knew, it would all hurt more and she would feel desperately tired. But now she had a job to do.