Saved By His Cinderella

‘How far down is the head?’ Ed asked.

‘The mum’s in the second stage, fully dilated, and the head’s pretty far down,’ Rosie said.

‘Too late for a section, then. OK. Iris is absolutely right. We’ll need to try forceps,’ Ed said, looking grim. ‘But if the baby isn’t out within three sets of traction, we’re talking emergency section under a general.’

As soon as they went into the delivery suite, Iris introduced them to the mum, Tilly Gallagher, who was kneeling with her bottom in the air and her shoulders lowered to slow down the delivery. Iris was clearly following established procedure, pushing the baby’s head back up between contractions to avoid extra pressure on the umbilical cord. Pushing the cord back behind the head wasn’t an option, because handling the cord could cause the blood vessels to spasm and reduce the amount of oxygen coming to the baby.

Tilly’s husband Ray was holding her hand and looking as if he wished he was elsewhere.

‘Try not to panic, Tilly,’ Ed said, ‘but the umbilical cord’s causing a bit of a complication and the safest way to deliver your baby is if we give you a little bit of help.’ He glanced at Jane, who nodded and took over.

‘We’re going to use forceps to help deliver the baby. We’ll also need to give you an episiotomy.’ She talked Tilly and Ray through the procedure while Ed checked the monitor to see how the baby was doing and Rosie went to fetch one of the senior paediatricians, ready to check the baby over after delivery.

They helped Tilly into position for delivery, in stirrups. ‘I know it’s not very dignified, but it’ll help us deliver the baby quickly,’ Jane said. ‘Ray, if you’d like to stay here by Tilly’s side, hold her hand and help her with her breathing?’

Ray looked grateful that they weren’t expecting him to view the birth.

Ed administered a local anaesthetic and gave Tilly an episiotomy ready for the delivery. Jane put the forceps together and was about to hand them to him when he mouthed to her, ‘It’ll be good experience for you to do it.’

Prolapsed cords weren’t that common, and Jane knew that he was right about this being good experience for her. Warmed that he had faith in her—and knowing that he would be there to help and advise her if things started to get tricky—Jane smiled at Tilly. ‘OK. What I’m going to do is help guide the baby’s head down with every contraction. If you’re at all worried at any point, just say and we’ll do our best to reassure you. Are you ready?’

Tilly took a deep breath. ‘I’m ready.’

As Tilly’s contractions progressed, Jane synchronised traction with the forceps, guiding the baby’s head downwards. She was aware of Rhys Morgan coming into the delivery suite, but was concentrating too much on Tilly and the baby to exchange any pleasantries with him.

She was relieved when the baby was finally delivered; while Rhys and Iris checked the baby over, she and Ed checked Tilly over.

The baby was silent, and Jane was aware of every second passing, every pulse of blood in her veins.

Please let the baby cry. Please let them have been in time. Jane had her back to Iris and Rhys so she couldn’t see what they were doing, but she knew they were probably giving the baby oxygen to help inflate the lungs and encourage the baby to breathe.

Please let the baby cry.

Just as she was starting to panic inwardly, she heard a thin wail.

At last. She exchanged a relieved glance with Ed.

She herd Iris calling out the Apgar score, and then finally Rhys came over with the baby wrapped in a warm blanket and placed the infant in Tilly’s arms. ‘Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Gallagher, you have a little boy.’

‘Oh, my baby.’ A tear slid down Tilly’s cheek. ‘Ray, he looks just like you.’

‘He’s—Oh, my God,’ Ray whispered. ‘Our baby.’

Jane couldn’t hold back the tears trickling down her own face. ‘He’s gorgeous.’

‘Congratulations,’ Ed said warmly. ‘There is a little bit of bruising, but that will go down in the next couple of days.’

‘And he’s going to be all right?’ Ray asked.

‘He’s doing fine,’ Rhys reassured her. ‘The scary stuff is all past. I’ll be in to see you later today, but in the meantime if you’re worried about anything you’re in very safe hands here.’ He nodded acknowledgement to Ed and Jane. ‘Catch you both later.’

Ed looked at Jane. ‘You’re crying.’

‘I told you, I always do when I deliver a baby,’ she said softly. ‘Because it’s such a perfect moment, the beginning of a new life, and it’s such a privilege to be here.’

Iris put her arm round Jane and hugged her. ‘You did well.’

‘Hey. Tilly’s the one who did most of the work, and your call was spot on,’ Jane said.

‘I just wish I’d picked it up earlier.’ Iris sighed. ‘But there were no signs, not until her waters broke and the monitor bleeped to say the baby was in distress.’

‘Nobody could’ve predicted it. And your assessment was perfect,’ Ed said.

He and Jane left Iris and Rosie with the Gallaghers and their newborn son, and Ed shepherded her through to his office. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, extracted a bar of chocolate and handed it to her.

She blinked. ‘What’s this for?’

‘Sugar. I think you need it.’ He blew out a breath. ‘That was a scary moment back then.’

‘You’re telling me.’ She broke the chocolate bar in half and handed one piece back to him. ‘I was getting a bit worried when I couldn’t hear the baby crying.’

‘Rhys says he’s absolutely fine. They were lucky. And you were a star with the forceps.’

‘Thanks for letting me do it. I mean, I’ve done forceps deliveries before, but they’ve been where the mum was so exhausted that she needed a bit of help.’

‘This wasn’t so much different. I knew you’d be fine—and if it had got tricky, I was there,’ he said. ‘We’re a good team.’

Inside and outside work. Not that she should let herself fall for Ed too quickly. Even though she knew he wouldn’t hurt her the way Shaun had, she also knew it wasn’t sensible to rush into this.

‘Are you busy tonight?’ he asked.

‘Don’t think I’m pushing you away, but I’m studying.’ Which was also a good excuse to keep him at just a tiny distance. Just enough to stop her being as vulnerable as she’d been with Shaun. ‘Sorry. I did tell you I was nerdy. And boring.’

‘No, you’re being sensible and advancing your career. It’s much better to study little and often than to cram it all in. You remember it better that way.’

‘You’re moving to your new flat tomorrow, aren’t you?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I could help, if you like,’ she offered.

He smiled. ‘I’d like that. Shall I pick you up at ten?’

‘That’d be great.’

At precisely ten o’clock the next morning, Ed rang the entryphone, and Jane buzzed him up. Even dressed for moving and unpacking boxes, in soft ancient denims and a worn T-shirt, he looked utterly gorgeous.

‘What?’ he asked, tipping his head to one side.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Just thinking about Mr Bond.’

‘Good.’ His smile turned sultry. ‘Hold on to that thought.’

‘So do we need to go and pick up your things from a storage place?’

‘I’ve already done that. The van’s full,’ he said. ‘If I carry the boxes in, would you mind starting to unpack them?’

‘Sure—actually, before we go, do you have coffee, milk and a kettle?’

He looked blank. ‘It never even occurred to me. I’ve been living in the hotel for a week, and my kettle’s packed in one of the boxes.’

‘So I take it you don’t have any cleaning stuff, either?’

‘I’m using an agency,’ he admitted. ‘They bring their own cleaning stuff. And they cleaned the flat for me yesterday. All we need to do is unpack.’

‘I’ll bring my kettle until we find yours,’ she said. She grabbed a jar of coffee, took an opened carton of milk from the fridge, and emptied out her kettle. She put the lot in a plastic bag, locked the door behind her, and followed him outside. He opened the passenger door of the van for her, then drove her to a new apartment building in Pimlico, overlooking the river.

‘Want to look round before we start?’ he asked.

‘Love to.’ The flat was gorgeous, really light and airy. There was a large reception room with French doors, containing a couple of bookshelves, a small dining table and four chairs and two pale yellow leather sofas. Next to it was a decent-sized separate kitchen; there was a large bedroom overlooking the river, and an immaculate pure white bathroom. But the best bit for Jane was the riverside terrace leading off from the reception room.

‘Oh, now this is gorgeous. You could have breakfast overlooking the river,’ she said, gesturing to the wrought iron bistro table and chairs.

‘That’s what made me decide to rent it,’ Ed said.

‘If you had some tubs of plants out here for a bit of colour and scent, this balcony would be perfect,’ she said. Not to mention eye-wateringly expensive; she knew what prices were like in this part of London, and the river view would add an extra chunk to the rent.

Ed had labelled his boxes sensibly, so it made unpacking much easier. He’d wrapped the crockery and glassware in newspaper to protect it for the move, so everything needed washing. ‘Shall I do this while you put everything else where you want it?’ she suggested.

By the end of the afternoon, Ed’s flat looked a bit more lived-in. Though it was still very much a masculine bachelor pad; the soft furnishings were skimpy in the extreme, and the place had the air of being designed rather than being home.

‘You’re brilliant,’ he said, kissing her. ‘Thanks so much. I’d still be doing this at midnight if you hadn’t helped.’

‘That’s OK.’ But she was warmed by his appreciation.

She wandered over to the mantelpiece. ‘Can I be nosey?’

‘Sure.’

All the photographs were in proper silver frames, she noticed. And there was a really nice picture of him with a man who looked so much like him that he had to be Ed’s older brother, plus three girls who had the same colouring but finer features and she guessed were his half-sisters. There was a very posh garden in the background; given the way they were dressed, she guessed that they’d been at some kind of garden party.

They all looked close-knit, with arms round each other and affectionate glances, and she suppressed a sigh. Ed was clearly close to his family. How could she explain to him that she wasn’t particularly close to hers?

And she really, really didn’t want to tell him about Jenna. It had been hard enough telling him about Shaun.

‘They look nice,’ she said.

‘They are. They’re noisy and they’re nosey and they drive me to distraction, but I love them to bits.’

The warmth in his voice told her that he meant it. Jane felt another pang. She loved her family, too, but they didn’t make it easy for her. She’d thought for years that maybe she was the problem—the nerdy, quiet, clumsy one who didn’t fit in. She had so little in common with them that it was hard for them even to like her, let alone love her.

But then she’d met Sorcha. The way Sorcha’s family had taken her to their hearts, making her feel like one of them—plus the easy camaraderie she had with her colleagues on the ward—made her rethink the position. Maybe she wasn’t the difficult one, after all. And you could still love someone without actually liking them, couldn’t you?

‘Penny for them?’ Ed asked, obviously noticing her distraction.

No way. Wild horses wouldn’t drag these thoughts from her. ‘Nothing important,’ she said.

To her relief, he changed the subject. ‘How about I order us a takeaway? After making you slave all day, the least I can do is feed you.’

She smiled. ‘Thanks. That’d be lovely.’

Jane spent Sunday studying. And it hadn’t been as bad a week as she’d expected; nobody at the hospital had said a word to her about that awful article. Jenna had been remarkably quiet, too, though Jane supposed that her twin was probably busy on a shoot somewhere. It was when Jenna wasn’t busy that trouble tended to happen.

And she ended up seeing Ed every other night for the next couple of weeks. He took her dancing; for the first time ever she found herself actually enjoying it, because he led her through the moves and was there to catch her before she fell. It turned out that he liked the same art-house cinema that she did; Shaun had always been bored if it wasn’t an action flick, and he’d never discussed the films with her afterwards. Ed was different; he insisted on going for an ice-cream sundae afterwards and talking about the film.

He whisked her off to Cambridge one Saturday afternoon, punted her all the way down the river to Grantchester Meadows, then lay in the long grass with her, her head pillowed on his chest. And when he kissed her in the middle of the river on the way back and whispered, ‘You’re beautiful,’ she believed him. The more time she spent with him, the more she liked him; she’d never felt so in tune with someone before.

And maybe, just maybe, Ed was the one she could trust with her heart.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ON TUESDAY Jane was having lunch with Ed when his mobile phone rang.

‘Excuse me a second,’ he said. ‘I’m going into the corridor where there’s a better reception.’

He came back white-faced.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

He sighed heavily. ‘That was Alice. George has had an accident.’

A road accident? And, given how pale Ed looked… ‘Oh, no. Is he OK?’

‘He’ll live. Would you believe, he crashed into a cliff?’

She blinked. ‘Into? Not off?’

‘Into,’ Ed confirmed. ‘It wasn’t a car accident.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘God knows what he was doing. Jet skiing or something like that, I suppose. He’s going to be an inpatient for a week, at least. He’ll be stir crazy by tonight, so I hate to think what he’ll be like by the time the plaster comes off. He loathes being cooped up. The girls and I are going to have a rota to visit him, but he’s still going to be bored rigid.’

‘Is he in London?’

‘Yes, over at the Hampstead Free—they’re pinning his leg right now, so there’s no point in me dropping everything and going over, because I can’t be in Theatre with him.’ He bit his lip. ‘I’m going straight after work.’

He looked worried sick. Jane reached across the table and took his hand. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

He looked at her. ‘It’s a bit of an ask.’

‘You’d do the same for me, if my brother had had an accident—not that I’ve got a brother, but you know what I mean.’

‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’ He grimaced. ‘I’d better warn you in advance, George is a bit of a charmer and a terrible flirt. But I guess even he’s going to be held back by having a broken leg and two broken wrists. Not to mention concussion.’

She squeezed his hand, guessing what he was worrying about. A bang on the head could turn out to be very, very nasty indeed; and, as a doctor, Ed would have a pretty good idea of the worst-case scenario. ‘Don’t build things up in your head. It might not be as bad as you think it is.’

‘Yeah, that’s the worst thing about being a medic. It’s years since I did my emergency department rotation, but I remember seeing head injuries and—oh, God, if he ends up with a subdural haematoma or something…’

‘You’re building bridges to trouble,’ she said gently. ‘Alice has probably already told you the worst: a broken leg, two broken wrists and concussion. And, as you said yourself, right now there’s nothing you can do.’

‘No.’ But Ed clearly felt too miserable to finish his lunch.

She was relieved mid-afternoon when they were called in to do an emergency Caesarean section, knowing that concentrating on their patient would take Ed’s mind off his worries about his brother. She let Ed close the wound after delivery rather than asking to do it herself, knowing that he needed the distraction.

Finally, it was the end of their shift and they caught the Tube over to Hampstead. On the way, Ed responded to a stream of text messages from his sisters, father and stepmother. He paused when they got to the hospital shop. ‘This is crazy, but I’ve got no idea what to take him. The girls have already stocked him up with grapes and chocolates, there’s a no-flowers rule in place and George isn’t exactly a flower person anyway.’

‘Why not go and see him first?’ Jane suggested. ‘Then you can ask him what he wants you to bring in for him.’

‘Good idea.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry. I’m not usually this dense or indecisive.’

‘Of course not. You’re just worried about your brother.’

He hugged her. ‘Thank you for being here—I do appreciate it. Even if I am being grumpy and unapproachable.’

She stroked his face. ‘You’re worried,’ she repeated. ‘Come on. Let’s go up to the ward and see how he’s doing. You’ll feel a lot better then.’

‘You’re right.’ He released her from the hug, but twined his fingers through hers as they walked through the corridors. ‘Thanks, Jane.’

‘May I see George Somers, please?’ Ed asked the nurse who was sorting out paperwork at the nurses’ station.

‘George?’ The nurse looked up and then smiled at him. ‘Oh, from the look of you, you must be his brother Ed. He’s been talking about you.’

‘How is he?’

‘A bit sorry for himself, bless him,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you through to see him.’

‘Thank you.’ Ed paused. He knew he was about to break protocol, but he really needed to know, because he was close to going crazy with worry. ‘Can I be really cheeky and ask, would you mind me having a quick look at his notes, please? I’m not going to interfere with treatment or anything, but you know how it is when you’re a medic.’ He gave her an apologetic smile. ‘You always start thinking the worst and worrying about the complications.’

‘And seeing it all written down stops you panicking.’ The nurse looked sympathetic. ‘As long as George gives his permission for you to see them, yes—as long as you know that even then it’ll be a favour, not a right.’

‘Thanks. I won’t abuse it,’ Ed promised.

She took them through to the small room where George was lying on the bed, his eyes closed and his face covered in bruises.

Ed’s fingers tightened round Jane’s. Oh, God. He’d known on an intellectual level that George would be in a mess, but actually seeing it for himself made everything seem much more real. If George had been one of his patients, Ed would’ve coped just fine; he would’ve been brisk and cheerful and supportive. But seeing his older brother lying there after surgery, with all the associated tubes and dressings, made him feel as if he couldn’t breathe. His lungs felt frozen with fear. What if there were post-op complications? What if there was a subdural haematoma they hadn’t picked up? What if George died?

‘Since he’s asleep, is it OK to wait here until he wakes up?’ he asked the nurse.

‘Of course.’ She patted his arm. ‘Try not to worry. He’s doing fine. If you need anything, come and find me.’

Ed sat down on the chair next to George’s bed and pulled Jane onto his lap. He really needed her warmth, right now. Thank God she had such a huge heart and wouldn’t judge him.

‘Do you want me to go and get you a cup of hot sweet tea from the café?’ Jane asked.

‘No, I’m fine,’ he lied. More like, he didn’t want her to move. He needed her close.

‘You’re not fine, Ed,’ she said softly.

He sighed. ‘I’m better with you here.’ He leaned his head against her shoulder. ‘Thanks for coming with me. And I’m sorry I’m such a mess right now.’

She stroked his hair. ‘Hey. Anyone would be, in your shoes. It’s always worse when it’s one of your family lying in that hospital bed.’

‘I hate to think of how much pain he’s been in.’ And the fact that George could’ve been killed… His brother’s death would have left a huge, unfillable hole in his life. Not just his, either: his father, stepmother and sisters all loved George as much as Ed did, even when he was driving them crazy with one of his escapades.

He sighed. ‘Why does my brother always have to take such stupid risks?’

‘Wasn’t stupid. Had protective gear on,’ a slurred voice informed them.

Guilt rushed through Ed. George needed his rest, and his voice had been too loud. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘Wasn’t asleep. Just resting my eyes. Knew you’d be here.’ George gave him a slightly sheepish smile. ‘Alice already nagged me, so don’t bother.’

‘There’s no point in nagging you. You won’t listen anyway,’ Ed said.

‘Who’s this?’ George looked questioningly at Jane.

‘Jane. Jane, this is my brother George.’

‘She’s sitting on your lap. Hmm. She the girl you wouldn’t tell me about?’

Ed sighed. ‘Yes.’ He could see on Jane’s face that she was wondering why he’d kept her quiet. Once she’d met his family, she’d understand: they were incredibly full on, and he wanted to be sure where this was going before he let her meet them. He’d explain later. But not in front of his brother.

‘’Lo, Jane,’ George said.

‘Hello, George. Nice to meet you, even though it’s not in the best of circumstances,’ she said politely.

‘And you.’ George smiled at her, and looked at Ed. ‘Jane. Ex’lent. I can call you “Tarzan” now, Ed.’

Jane laughed. ‘You can try, but he’ll frown at you.’

George grinned. ‘She knows you well, then.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Though it heartened Ed that George was feeling well enough to tease him. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Bit woozy,’ George admitted. ‘Gave me enough painkillers to fell a horse.’

‘Probably because you needed them, and you’ve had a general anaesthetic as well so you’re going to feel woozy for a day or so.’ Ed meant to be nice. He really did. But the fear turned to anger, and the question just burst out. ‘What the hell did you do, dive-bomb the cliff or something?’

‘No, got caught out by a gust of wind.’

‘Wind? What the hell were you doing?’

‘Paragliding.’

That was a new one on him. Though he knew that George had been looking for another outlet for his energy, since their father had banned him, absolutely, from racing cars.

‘How did it happen?’

George grimaced. ‘My fault. Not concentrating properly.’

Thinking of a girl, no doubt. ‘You could’ve killed yourself, George.’

‘’M still here,’ George said mildly.

‘With what looks like a broken femur, two broken wrists and some broken fingers.’ Ed sighed. ‘Can I read your notes?’

‘Yeah. Can you translate ’em for me?’

‘Tomorrow, I will, when you’re more with it,’ Ed promised. ‘Right now, you won’t take much in—you’re still too woozy even to string a sentence together properly.’ And he really hoped it was the combination of pain and the after-effects of the anaesthetic making George slur his words, rather than being a warning signal of something more sinister.

He fished the notes out of the basket at the head of George’s bed. ‘Yup. Two broken wrists, one broken femur—and…’ George had hit the cliff face on, and pretty hard. He’d automatically put his hands up to save his face, which was why both wrists and some fingers were broken; but he’d also damaged his leg. And he’d sustained a blow to his testes, according to the notes. Hard enough to put a question over his future fertility.

Which meant that, even though George was the heir to the barony, he might not be able to have children. And that in turn meant that at some point Ed could have to give up the job he loved and do his duty for the family. Not that that was uppermost in Ed’s mind. All he could see was his brother crashing into the cliff. Lying on an ambulance trolley. On the table in Theatre. How nearly they’d lost him. ‘You idiot. You could’ve killed yourself.’

George shrugged. ‘’M OK. Could be worse. Didn’t break my head, did I?’

‘No, just your leg and your wrists. I know you’re a thrill-seeker, and I get that you love the adrenalin rush. But, for pity’s sake, can’t you do things the safe way?’ Ed asked plaintively.