Unwrapping Her Italian Doc (12 page)

L
OUISE TOOK THE
baby over to the warmer and she was wrapped and given some oxygen and a tube put down her to give her surfactant that would help with her immature lungs.

‘We’re going to take her up,’ Louise said, as Emily completely broke down.

‘Can’t I go with her?’

‘Not yet,’ Anton said, ‘but you’ll be able to see her soon.’

‘I’ll go with her,’ Hugh assured his wife, but Louise could see how upset Emily was. She had been holding onto her emotions for weeks now, quietly determined not to love her baby too much, though, of course she did.

‘Hugh, you stay with Emily and I’ll stay with the baby,’ Louise suggested. ‘She’s fine, she’s beautiful and you’ll see her very soon, Emily. I promise I am not going to leave her side.’

Louise did stay with her, the neonatal staff did their thing and Louise watched, but from a chair, smiling when an hour or so later Hugh came in.

‘Hi, Dad,’ Louise said, watching as Hugh peered in. ‘How’s Emily?’

‘Upset,’ Hugh said. ‘She’ll be fine once she sees her
but Anton says she needs to have a sleep first and she won’t.’ He took out his phone and went to film the baby, who was crying and unsettled.

‘Why don’t you go and get some colostrum from her?’ Ellie, the neonatal nurse, suggested to Louise. ‘Mum might feel better knowing she’s fed her.’

‘Great idea.’ Louise smiled and headed back to the ward.

Emily was back in her room, the door open so she could be watched, but the curtains were drawn.

‘Knock-knock,’ Louise said, and there was her friend, teary and missing her baby so much. ‘She’s fine, Hugh’s with her,’ Louise went on, and explained her plans.

‘You just need to get a tiny bit off,’ Louise said, ‘but she’s hungry and it’s so good to get the colostrum into them.’

‘Okay.’

Emily managed a few drops, which Louise nursed into a syringe, but Louise reassured her that that was more than enough. ‘This is like gold for your baby.’ Louise was delighted with her catch.

As Louise headed out she glanced at the time and realised she would have to ring her mum, who was going to be incredibly worried, given what had happened last year.

As Anton walked into the kitchen on the maternity unit it was to the sight of Louise brightly smiley and taking a selfie with her phone.

‘Forward it onto me,’ Anton said.

Louise smiled. He didn’t care a bit that she was vain, though in this instance he was mistaken. ‘Actually, this is for Mum. She’s all stressed and thinks I’ve made up
Emily’s baby. Well, she didn’t say that exactly …’ She texted her mum the photo and then picked up the small syringe of colostrum. ‘Christmas dinner for Baby Linton. I can’t believe she’s here.’

‘Relieved?’ Anton asked.

‘So, so relieved. I know she’s going to get jaundice and give them a few scares but she is just so lovely and such a nice size …’

‘Louise.’ Anton caught her arm as she went to go. ‘How come you didn’t go home last Christmas?’

‘I told you, I was pretty miserable.’

‘Your family are close.’

‘Of course.’ She shrugged. ‘I just didn’t want to upset them …’

‘You couldn’t put on an act for one day?’

‘No …’ Her voice trailed off. She hadn’t wanted to upset her family on Christmas Day and neither did she want to upset him now. Yet her family had been so hurt by her shutting them out. Louise looked into his eyes and knew that her silence was hurting him too. Everyone in the delivery room except Anton knew what had happened last year and if they were going to have a future, and she was starting to think they might, then it was only fair to tell him.

‘I couldn’t cover up the bruises. I waited till Boxing Day and called Emily, who came straight away. When I wouldn’t go to hospital she called Rory and he came to the hotel and sutured my scalp.’

Louise didn’t want to see his expression and neither did she want to go into further details of the day right now. She had told him now and she could feel his struggle to react, to suppress, possibly just to breathe as he fathomed just what the saying meant about having the
living daylights knocked out of you. The light in Louise had gone out that day and had stayed out for some months, but it was fully back now. ‘I’m going to get this up to the baby.’ She kissed his taut cheek. ‘You need to shave.’

They had a small, fierce cuddle that said more than words could and then Louise said she was heading up to NICU, still unable to meet his eyes.

Hugh watched and Louise did the filming as Baby Linton was given the precious colostrum and a short while later was asleep.

Have a sleep now, Louise texted. Your daughter is and she attached the film and sent it.

A few moments later Hugh’s phone buzzed and he smiled as Emily gave him the go-ahead.

‘Thanks,’ Hugh said, and then he took out a pen and crossed out the ‘Baby’ on ‘Baby Linton’. He wrote the word ‘Louise’ in instead.

Louise Linton.

‘Two Ls means double the love,’ Louise said, trying not to cry. ‘Thanks, Hugh, that means an awful lot.’

More than anyone could really know.

When Hugh went back to Maternity to be with Emily, Louise sat there, staring at her namesake, and the thought she had briefly visited that morning returned.

She’d have to go back on the Pill. It wouldn’t be fair to Anton if there were any mistakes, however unlikely it was that she might naturally fall pregnant. But that ultimately meant, when she came off the Pill again, another few months of the horrible times she’d just been through simply trying to work out her cycle.

Louise knew she was probably looking at another year at best. Could she do it without sulking? Louise
wondered. Just let go of her hopes for a baby and chase the dream of a relationship that actually worked?

She walked over and looked at the little one who had caused so much angst but who had already brought so many smiles.

‘How’s Louise?’ Anton came up a couple of hours later and saw Louise standing and gazing into the incubator.

‘Tired,’ Louise said, still not able to meet his eyes after her revelation. ‘Oh, you mean the baby? She’s perfect.’ She glanced over to where Rory and several staff were gathered around an incubator. Louise knew that it was Henry, a baby she had delivered in November. He had multiple issues and was a very sick baby indeed. She looked down at little Louise, who was behaving beautifully. ‘You’re a bit of a fraud really, aren’t you?’

‘Emily’s asleep,’ Anton said. ‘When she wakes up she can come and visit.’

‘I’ll stay till then.’ Louise smiled. ‘Can you just watch Louise while I go to the loo?’

Anton glanced over at the neonatal nurse but that wasn’t what Louise meant. ‘No, you’re to be on love watch,’ Louise said.

Anton took a seat when usually he wouldn’t have and looked at the very special little girl.

‘Thank you!’ Louise was back a couple of minutes later. ‘I really needed that!’

Anton rolled his eyes as Louise, as usual, gave far too much information. When Anton didn’t get up she perched on his knee, with her back to him, watching little Louise asleep. She had nasal cannulas in but she was breathing on her own and though she might need
a little help with that in the coming days, for now she was doing very well.

‘Emily’s here,’ Anton said, and Louise jumped up and smiled as Emily was wheeled over.

Yes, Louise was far from the tiniest infant here but the machines and equipment were terrifying and Ellie talked them through it.

‘I’m going to go,’ Louise said, and gave Emily a kiss. ‘I’ll come and see you tomorrow. Send me a text tonight. Oh, and here …’ She handed over a little pink package. ‘Open it later. Just enjoy your time with her now.’

She gave her friend a quick cuddle then she and Anton left them to it.

‘Do you want to come to Mum and Dad’s?’ Louise asked, as they stopped by his office to get his laptop.

‘Will it cause a lot of questions for you?’

‘Torrents,’ Louise said, but then the most delicious smell diverted her and she peeked out the door, to see Alex and Jennifer heading onto the ward with two plates and lots of containers.

‘Alex,’ Louise called, and they turned round.

‘They’re up seeing the baby,’ Louise explained.

‘Oh, we didn’t come to see them,’ Jennifer said, and Louise jumped in.

‘How sweet of you to bring Christmas dinner for the obstetrician and midwife,’ Louise teased, watching Jennifer turn purple as Anton stepped out.

‘Anton.’ Alex smiled warmly. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas,’ Anton said.

‘You haven’t met Jennifer …’

‘Jennifer.’ Anton smiled. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas,’ Jennifer croaked, and then turned frantic eyes to Louise. ‘We don’t want to disturb
Emily and Hugh, we were just going to leave them a dinner for tonight … She was practically thrusting the plates at Louise. ‘We’ll leave these with you.’

But Louise refused to be rushed.

‘That’s so nice of you,’ Louise said, but instead of taking the plates she peeked under the foil. ‘Jennifer, Emily didn’t just give birth to a foal—there’s enough here to feed a horse.’

It looked and smelt amazing and Louise was shameless in her want for a taste, not just for her but for Anton too. ‘That’s what a traditional Christmas dinner looks like, Anton.’ Louise smiled sweetly at Jennifer. ‘It’s Anton’s first Christmas in England,’ Louise explained, and of course she would get her way. ‘What a shame he’s never tasted a really nice one.’

‘I’m sure there’s enough for everyone,’ Alex said, oblivious to his wife’s tension around Anton, and Jennifer gave in.

‘Luckily my husband’s good with a scalpel!’

It was a very delicate operation.

They went into the kitchen and got out tea plates.

Louise and Anton got two Brussels sprouts each, one roast potato and two slivers of parsnips in butter as Anton watched, fascinated by the argument taking place.

‘I don’t think Emily needs six piggies in blankets,’ Louise said.

‘Piggies in blankets?’ Anton checked.

‘Sausages wrapped in bacon,’ Alex translated.

‘Two each, then,’ Jennifer said, and Alex added them to the tea plates.

‘How much turkey can they have?’ Alex asked.

‘A slice each,’ Jennifer said. ‘Emily needs her protein.’

Louise shook her head.

‘Okay, one and a half,’ Jennifer relented.

Alex duly divided.

They got one Yorkshire pudding each too, as well as home-made cranberry and bread sauce, and finally dinner was served!

‘You can go now.’ Louise smiled. ‘Merry Christmas.’

She put sticky notes on Hugh and Emily’s plates, warning everyone to keep their greedy mitts off, then Louise closed the kitchen door.

She found a used birthday candle among the ward’s Christmas paraphernalia and stuck it in a stale mince pie as their Christmas dinners rotated in the microwave and then she turned the lights off.

‘Do you want to pull a cracker?’

‘Bon-bon,’ Anton said, but they cracked two and sat in hats and, oh, my, Jennifer’s cooking was divine, even if you had to fight her to taste it.

‘How do you know Jennifer?’ Louise asked, as she smeared bread sauce over her turkey.

‘I don’t.’

‘Anton!’ Louise looked at his deadpan face. ‘No way was that the first time you two have met. Is she pregnant again?’ Louise frowned. ‘She must be in her mid-forties …’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about,’ Anton said, though his lips were twitching to tell.

‘Are you having an affair with Jennifer?’ Louise asked, smiling widely.

‘Where the hell did you produce that from?’ Anton smiled back.

‘Anton, Jennifer went purple when she saw you and I just know you’ve seen each other before.’

‘I don’t know if I like this bread sauce,’ was Anton’s response to her probing.

‘It’s addictive,’ Louise said, and gave up fishing.

It was the nicest Christmas dinner ever—perfect food, the best company and a baby named Louise snug and safe nearby. After they had finished their delectable meal Louise went over and sat on his knee. ‘Thank you for a lovely Christmas, Anton.’

‘Thank you,’ Anton said, because what she’d told him, though upsetting, hadn’t spoiled his Christmas. Instead, it had drawn them closer.

‘We both deserve it, I think.’

She felt his arms on her back, lightly stroking the clasp of her bra and as she rested her head on his shoulder it felt the safest place in the world.

‘Do you understand why I’m so wary?’

‘Now I do,’ Anton said. ‘I’m glad you were able to tell me and I am so sorry for what happened to you.’

It was then Louise let her dreams go; well, not for ever, but she put them on hold for a while.

‘I’m going to cancel my appointment,’ Louise said, and she didn’t lift her head, not now because she couldn’t look him in the eye but because she didn’t want Anton to see her cry. ‘Well, I’m going to go and get the test results back but I’m not going to go for the IVF.’

He could hear her thick voice and knew there were tears and he rubbed her back.

‘Thank you,’ Anton said, and they sat for a moment, Anton glad for the chance for them, Louise grateful for it too but just a bit sad for now, though she soon chirped up.

‘When I say cancelling the IVF I meant that I’m postponing it,’ Louise amended. ‘No pressure or anything
but I’m not waiting till I’m forty for you to make up your mind whether you want us to be together.’

‘You have to make your mind up too,’ Anton pointed out.

‘Oh, I did yesterday,’ Louise said, and pulled her head back and smiled into his eyes. ‘I’m already in.’ She gave him a light kiss before standing to head for home.

‘You’re stuck with me now.’

A
S THEY WALKED
out they bumped into Rory, who was on his way up to NICU to check in on a six-week-old who was doing his level best to spoil everyone’s Christmas.

‘You look tired,’ Louise said.

‘Very,’ Rory admitted. ‘I’m just off to break some bad news to a family.’

‘What time do you finish?’ Louise asked.

‘Six.’

‘Do you want to come for a rubbish dinner at Mum’s?’ Louise asked.

‘God, no.’ Rory smiled.

‘Honestly, if Anton and you
both
come then Mum will assume I’m just bringing all the strays and foreigners who are lonely … she pointed her thumb in Anton’s direction ‘… rather than grilling me about him.’ She knew Rory’s family lived miles away. ‘You don’t want to be on your own on Christmas night.’

‘I won’t be on my own,’ Rory said. ‘Thanks for offering, though. I’m going to Gina’s to help her celebrate her first sober Christmas in who knows how long.’

‘Gina?’ Louise checked. ‘Is she the one you’re—?’

‘She’s always been the one,’ Rory said. ‘It’s nearly killed me to watch her self-destruct.’ He stood there on
the edge of breaking down as Anton’s hand came on his shoulder. ‘Nothing’s ever happened between us,’ Rory explained. ‘And nothing can.’

‘Why?’ Louise asked.

‘Because she’s in treatment and you’re not supposed to have a relationship for at least a year.’

‘Does she know how you feel?’ Louise asked.

‘No, because I don’t want to confuse her. She’s trying to sort her stuff out and I don’t want to add to it.’

‘She’s so lucky to have you,’ Louise said, ‘even if she doesn’t know that she has.’ Louise let out a breath. ‘Who’s going to speak to the parents with you?’

‘Just me,’ Rory said. ‘They’re all busy with Henry.’

‘I know the parents,’ Louise said to Rory. ‘You’re not doing that on your own. Is there any hope?’

‘A smudge,’ Rory said, and they headed back to NICU and Anton stood and waited as Louise and Rory went in to see the parents.

Anton loved her love.

How she gave it away and then, when surely there should be nothing left, she still gave more.

How she walked so pale out of a horrible room and cuddled her ex as Anton stood there, the least jealous guy in the world. He was simply glad that Rory had Louise to lean on as Anton remembered that horrible Christmas when he’d been the one breaking bad news.

He would be grateful to Rory for ever for being there for Louise last year.

As they walked out into the grey Christmas afternoon and to Anton’s car, Louise spoke.

‘Rory’s right not to tell Gina how he feels,’ Louise said.

‘Do you think?’

‘I do.’ Louise nodded. ‘I think you do need a whole year to recover from anything big. Not close to a year, you need every single day of it, you need to go through each milestone, each anniversary and do them differently, and as of today I have.’

It had been a hard year, though the previous one had been harder—estranged from family and friends and losing herself in the process. But now here she was, a little bit older, a whole lot wiser, and certainly Louise was herself.

Yes, she was grateful for those difficult years.

It had brought her here after all.