Her husband followed and hovered in the corridor, white-faced and breathing rapidly.
Sally paused. ‘Come with us,’ she said gently. ‘You can wait in the recovery room next to Theatre.’
She showed him where to go and then hurried through to Theatre and scrubbed.
Tom was already gowned and masked and waiting for the patient. ‘Someone get a paediatrician down here—now.’
One of the other midwives hurried to make the call and Tom turned his attention back to the patient.
‘Hurry up,’ he growled at the anaesthetist, who gave a nod of understanding.
‘I’m ready when you are. Carry on.’
There were few other obstetric emergencies where speed was so vital. The whole team understood the urgency and the usual cheerful buzz of the theatre was replaced by virtual silence.
Working like clockwork and with no verbal communication necessary, Sally handed him the instruments he needed at the exact time he needed them, and Tom performed the fastest, slickest Caesarean she’d ever witnessed.
His fingers were swift and sure, using the scalpel to stroke through the layers of skin and muscle to expose the lower segment of the uterus.
Sally watched in awe as he made a small, transverse incision with the scalpel and then widened it with his fingers. Then he passed his right hand into the uterus and lifted the baby’s head, instructing his registrar to press on the fundus to push the baby out. After a few tense seconds, during which no one watching breathed or moved, he manoeuvred the baby out and into the waiting hands of the paediatrician.
There was no cry and Sally felt her heart lurch.
Were they too late?
Despite the speed with which Tom had acted, had the baby’s oxygen supply been cut off by pressure on the cord?
Tom still had his hands in the uterus, delivering the placenta, but his eyes lifted once to the corner of the room where the paediatrician was leaning over the rescusitaire.
‘Give me some news on that baby. And make it good news.’ His voice was hoarse and reflected the concern and urgency that they all felt.
And then suddenly there was a thin, reedy cry that turned into a furious yell.
A smile spread across Sally’s face and she looked at Tom, her eyes filled with tears.
‘Have I ever told you you’re brilliant?’
He closed his eyes for a moment and she felt the tension ooze out of him, saw his wide shoulders sag slightly. Then he opened them again and they gleamed above his mask.
‘I think you should be praising Emma. She’s the one with cramp in her right hand.’
Emma smiled and waggled her fingers ruefully. ‘I always find normal deliveries so boring,’ she quipped, and Tom rolled his eyes.
‘You midwives are never satisfied. Can we do a swab count before I close?’
Looking at the hint of dark stubble on his hard jaw and the thickness of his dark lashes, Sally felt her heart kick against her chest and a pulsing warmth spread through her body.
He was an incredible doctor.
And an incredible man.
And, like it or not, she was stuck loving him for the rest of her life.
Suddenly she wanted him so badly it was a physical ache. She needed him. She might not be prepared to risk her heart, but there was nothing stopping her enjoying a physical relationship with him, was there?
Watching his strong, clever fingers skilfully stitching Lynne’s uterus, she suddenly wanted him so much that her vision blurred and she felt dizzy.
‘Are you all right?’ His deep voice was concerned and she lifted her eyes to his.