Christmas Eve: Doorstep Delivery (Lakeside Mountain Rescue 7)

It wasn’t the time to tell her she should have come into hospital hours ago. What was the point in adding to her guilt and worry? What he really needed to do was gain her confidence. ‘I’m a great supporter of home birth, providing the circumstances are right. This isn’t one of those circumstances.’

Katherine looked at him, exhausted, confused and wrung out by the whole physical and emotional experience of childbirth. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to the baby.’

‘I know you don’t.’ Patrick watched as the foetal heart monitor showed another dip. ‘The baby isn’t happy, Katherine. We need to do this, and we need to do it now. Maggie, can you bleep Gary again? Tell him I want him up here any time in the next two seconds. The rest of you—transfer her into Theatre while I go and scrub. Move.’

Patrick changed quickly and then started to scrub, allowing the hot soapy water to drain down his arms.

‘She’s ready’ Another the midwife hurried up to him. ‘We’ve taken blood for cross-matching and she’s breathing 100 per cent oxygen. Gary is doing a spinal. He says can you please start soon because he’s getting bored.’

Patrick gave a smile of appreciation and moments later he was gloved and gowned, scalpel in hand. ‘If you need any advice, Gary, just let me know,’ he said smoothly, exchanging a glance with his colleague. ‘Katherine, if you feel anything at any point, you just tell me. Are you all ready for Christmas?’ He chatted easily, the words requiring no concentration, all his focus on the technical operation he was performing. Even though the foetal heart was stable, he knew that time wasn’t on his side.

He also knew that he didn’t intend to lose this baby.

‘I’ve bought the presents.’ Katherine’s voice was wobbly with nerves. ‘I’m supposed to be picking up the turkey tomorrow.’

The staff draped sterile cloths in such a way that Katherine couldn’t see what was happening.

‘Someone else can do that for you—it will be good practice for your husband.’ Patrick held out his gloved hand and the midwife assisting him passed him the instrument he needed. ‘Any tips on cooking turkey are gratefully received. Last year it was a disaster, I ended up cooking cranberry omelette. My children have never forgiven me.’ His gloved fingers widened the incision he’d made and he glanced at the clock. Three minutes.

The door to Theatre opened and the paediatrician hurried into the room, ready to take the baby.

‘Good timing. Come on, little fellow.’ Patrick eased the baby out and there was a collective sigh of relief when the child started to bawl loudly. ‘You have a son, Katherine. Merry Christmas.’ He allowed the mother to see and touch the baby briefly before handing the boy to the hovering paediatrician. ‘Nothing to worry about. We just need to check him over, Katherine.’

Leaving the baby in the hands of his colleague, Patrick turned his attention back to his own job. Delivering the placenta and then closing. He worked quickly and quietly, aware of Katherine and her husband in the background talking in low, excited voices.

‘That was fast, even for you.’ Watching him close, Maggie opened another suture for him. ‘A new record. I think you could just be a genius.’

Patrick grinned. ‘I do love a bit of hero-worship. Does all this admiration mean you’re willing to perform that traditional midwifery task of making me a cup of tea when I’ve finished here?’

‘Don’t push your luck, handsome. I didn’t train for all those years to make you tea.’ Maggie handed him a swab. ‘And, anyway, you won’t have time to drink it.’

‘That’s probably true.’

‘I don’t know why you’re complaining. You have Christmas off.’

Patrick’s fingers worked swiftly and skilfully. ‘This will be my first Christmas at home with my kids in years.’

‘Want me to come and cook that turkey for you?’ Maggie winked saucily and Patrick smiled.

‘You’re happily married. Behave yourself.’

Watching what he was doing, she opened a sterile dressing. ‘Tom Hunter is on call over Christmas. If his wife delivers, you might have to come in anyway. He doesn’t trust anyone else. He’s going to have a nervous breakdown if you’re not here.’

‘I saw Sally in clinic today. She won’t deliver until Boxing Day at the earliest.’ Patrick secured the dressing. ‘This year, I’m going to eat my turkey in peace. That’s if I manage to work out how to cook the damn thing. Katherine. I’m done here.’ He smiled at the patient. ‘I’m going to get cleaned up, we’ll transfer you to the ward and then I’ll come and see you.’

The woman’s eyes were misted with tears of gratitude and euphoria. ‘Thank you. Thank you for saving my baby—and thank you for making the whole thing so unscary. I’m sorry I was so pathetic. You are a fantastic doctor and your wife is a lucky woman.’

There was sudden tension in the operating theatre and several of the staff exchanged embarrassed glances, but Patrick simply smiled.

‘Unfortunately my now ex-wife would have disagreed with you,’ he drawled, stepping back from the operating table and ripping off his gloves. ‘She would have been the first to tell you that fantastic doctors make lousy husbands. I’ll see you later, Katherine. I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.’

He stayed longer in the shower than he should have done, feeling the hot water sluice over his bare flesh while he tried shut down his thinking.

Lousy husband.

That was what he’d been to Carly, wasn’t it?

Feeling the familiar stab of guilt, he turned off the water and cursed softly.