walking hand in hand in the shallows. Couples lying on rugs on the sand, holding each other.
Young loves?
He walked on and passed a couple who looked to be in their seventies, maybe even older. They were walking slowly. The guy had a limp, a gammy hip? The woman was holding his hand as if she was supporting him.
But the hold wasn’t one of pure physical support, he thought. Their body language said they’d been holding each other for fifty years.
He wanted it still. So badly …
Could he take on the kids? Could he take that risk?
Was it a risk? He’d held Gretta today and what he’d felt …
She had Down’s syndrome with complications. Tristan said her life expectancy could be measured in months. It was stupid—impossible even—to give your heart to such a kid.
He could still hear his adoptive mother …
‘It’s not like he’s really ours. If we hadn’t had Brett then we wouldn’t have known what love really is. And now … we’re stuck with him. It’s like we have a cuckoo in the nest …’
If he ever felt like that …
It was too hard. He didn’t know how to feel.
But Em had made the decision for him. She’d moved on, saying he was free to find someone and have kids of his own. Kids who he could truly love.
Hell. He raked his hair and stared out at the moonlit water.
Melbourne’s bay was protected. The waves were small, even when the weather was wild, but on a night like this they were practically non-existent. The windsurfers had completely run out of wind. The moonlight was a silver shimmer over the sea and the night seemingly an endless reflection of the starlit sky.
He wanted Em with him.
He wanted her to be … free?
It wasn’t going to happen. She had encumbrances. No, he thought, she has people she loves. Kids. Her mother. Not him.
It’s for the best, he thought, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and practically glaring at the moon. I should never have come to the Victoria. I wouldn’t have if I’d known Em would be here.
So leave?
Maybe he would, he thought. He’d agreed with Charles Delamere on a three-month trial.
Twelve weeks to go?
ON MONDAY OLIVER hit the wards early. He’d been in the day before, not because he’d been on duty but because he’d wanted to check on Ruby. But Ruby was doing all the right things and so was her baby, so he didn’t check her first. He worked on the things he needed for his embryonic research lab, then decided to check the midwives’ roster and choose a time to visit Ruby when he knew Em wouldn’t be around.
So he headed—surreptitiously, he thought—to the nurses’ station in the birthing centre—just as Isla Delamere came flying down the corridor, looking, for Isla, very harassed indeed.
When she saw Oliver she practically sagged in relief.
‘Dr Evans. Oliver. I know your specialty’s in-utero stuff and I know Charles has said you can spend the rest of your time on your research but you’re an obstetrician first and foremost, yes?’
‘Yes.’ Of course he was.
‘I have four births happening and we’re stretched. Two are problems. Emily’s coping with one, I have the other. Mine’s a bit of a spoilt socialite—she was booked at a private hospital but had hysterics at the first labour pain so her husband’s brought her here because we’re closer. I can deal with that. But Em’s looking after a surrogate mum. She’s carrying her sister’s child—her sister’s egg, her sister’s husband’s sperm, all very organised—but the emotion in there seems off the planet. Maggie’s a multigravida, four kids of her own, no trouble with any, but now she’s slowed right down and her sister’s practically hysterical. But we can’t kick her out. Oliver, Em needs support. Our registrar’s off sick, Darcie’s at a conference, Sean’s coping with a Caesar so that leaves you. Can you help?’
‘Of course.’
‘Excellent. Here are the case notes. Suite Four.’
‘You’re okay with yours?’
‘My one wants pethidine, morphine, spinal blocks, amputation at the waist, an immediate airlift to Hawaii and her body back,’ Isla said grimly. ‘And she’s only two centimetres dilated. Heaven help us when it’s time to push. But I’ve coped with worse than this in my time. What Em’s coping with seems harder. She needs you, Dr Evans. Go.’
The last time he’d seen her he’d kissed her. Now …
Em seemed to be preparing to do a vaginal examination. She was scrubbed, dressed in theatre gear, looking every inch a midwife. Every inch a professional. And the look she gave him as he slipped into the room had nothing to do with the kiss, nothing to do with what was between them. It was pure, professional relief.
‘Here’s Dr Evans,’ she said briskly to the room in general. ‘He’s one of our best obstetricians. You’re in good hands now, Maggie.’
‘She doesn’t need to be in good hands.’ A woman who looked almost the mirror image of the woman in the bed—except that she was smartly dressed, not a hair out of place, looking like she was about to step into a boardroom—was edging round the end of the bed to see what Em was doing. She ignored Oliver. ‘Maggie, you just need to push. Thirty-six hours … You can do this. It’s taking too long. Just push.’
Em cast him a beseeching look—and he got it in one. The whole set-up.
A guy who was presumably Maggie’s husband was sitting beside her, holding her hand. He looked almost as stressed as his labouring wife.
The other woman had a guy with her, as well, presumably her husband, too? He was dressed in casual chinos and a cashmere sweater. Expensive. Smooth.
Both he and his wife seemed focused on where the action should be taking place. Where their child would be born. Even though the woman had been talking to Maggie, she’d been looking at the wrong end of the bed.
Surrogate parenthood … Oliver had been present for a couple of those before, and he’d found the emotion involved was unbelievable. Surrogacy for payment was illegal in this country. It had to be a gift, and what a gift! To carry a child for your sister …
But Maggie wasn’t looking as if she was thinking of gifts. She was looking beyond exhaustion.
Thirty-six hours …
‘Can’t you push?’ Maggie’s sister said again, fretfully. ‘Come on, Maggie, with all of yours it was over in less than twelve hours. The book says it should be faster for later pregnancies. You can do it. You
