‘Once in a lifetime,’ agreed Janine. ‘And if we’re somehow able to get this baby safely out whilst keeping Mum well, I think it will stay with me as the most incredible birth of my career.’
‘Do you think we can?’ Rae bit her lip. ‘Save the mother and the baby?’
‘We can certainly try. The baby is crying, so I’d say that was a good sign. We’re going to have to get it out as quickly as we can. You see that mass there? That’s the placenta. We need to remove it carefully so as not to cause bleeding.’
They worked swiftly, carefully, with one eye on the baby and another on the mother. Both of whom seemed to be doing remarkably well.
Rae wasn’t even sure she was breathing during the entire painstaking procedure. But suddenly they were closing up and it was all over and she and Janine stared at each other in disbelief. Tired but elated.
‘We’ll still have to keep a close eye on them. The mother is at risk of both bleeding and infection, and I don’t know how the baby is going to develop, but you should be very proud of yourself, Rae. That’s an incredible job tonight.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled, not sure whether it was the baby they’d just delivered or her mentor’s praise that was filling her with such an incredible sense of euphoria.
‘Right, now didn’t your shift end an hour and a half ago? So go and get something to eat, get some rest, and we’ll do it all again tomorrow. Well, maybe not this, exactly.’
‘No.’ Rae laughed, feeling exhausted but insanely proud. ‘Not exactly.’
She wasn’t sure whether she crawled, walked or floated to the doors of the clinic but she might have known her escape wouldn’t have been that easy as a frantic-looking colleague from the general hospital on the other side of the courtyard came racing in.
‘We’ve got an old guy hauled out of the river. Don’t know how long he was down but he was in a bad way. We’ve run out of stuff. Have you got any blankets and fresh trousers over here?’
She should keep walking. Her shift was over but her next one would start in a matter of twelve hours.
Rae glanced over her shoulder. Everyone was hectic, as always, and time clearly wouldn’t be on the old man’s side if he had hypothermia.
‘I’m just coming off shift. If you fill out one of your department’s authorisation slips I’ll run it to the warehouse for you.’
The issue sheets were a precious commodity around here. There was no way the women’s clinic could afford to use one of their own for goods from the main hospital, and the warehouse staff couldn’t release anything—clothing, food, toiletries—without a paper trail.
‘Oh, would you, doll?’ the older woman breathed gratefully. ‘I’ll fill out a slip now. We’re swamped over there.’
Rae followed her back across the courtyard, the paperwork in her hands within a minute, a quick, tight hug almost squeezing the life out of her.
A quick run to the stores and back, and then that would be it. Bed. Sleep. And a good breakfast. Then another non-stop twelve-hour shift would start. To so many people, this would be their idea of hell.
Yet somehow, Rae had never felt so settled. So right. As if this was somehow her calling, she just hadn’t realised it before.
Her first week would soon be up. Already. Another three and she’d be home. In time for New Year, Rafe had said.
Why did she already get the feeling that one month out here simply wouldn’t be enough?
‘Oh. I didn’t know you’d be here.’
* * *
Myles stilled in his task as her voice carried in the quiet, cool air, its faint quiver hitching curiously in his chest.
He battled to keep images of that last evening at her house out of his head. He couldn’t afford to go there. Each time he did, something else kicked lower, harder, and eminently more forcefully.
He’d spent five days—seven, if he included the flights over here—pretending he hadn’t given in to the temptation of kissing her, tasting her, touching her.
But it was impossible. Rae was always there, tempting him in gloriously vivid Technicolor, whether in his nightly dreams or his waking hours.
He supposed he should be gratef
ul. If he wasn’t dreaming of Rae then it was other memories that pervaded his head. Nightmares that infiltrated his sleep like an unwanted invader. Images he could never, ever bury, and which would haunt him for ever.
The longer he’d been out here, the worse they’d become. But he couldn’t speak to anyone. He would not talk about it. He was just waiting to get home.