other woman mouthed her thanks as Poppy hand-signalled that she was leaving. Suddenly she had to get out of there. Poppy knew it was just a delayed reaction to the stress, but the full horror of how close Amelia had come to dying crashed in on her. Jake would go and see Sheila as soon as he could safely leave her daughter’s side. It had been a big day all round and she decided she needed some space to pull her thoughts together.
Sandy was waiting for her when she came back. ‘Poppy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What happened?’
‘I’m OK. Everything will be all right now. There was a six-year-old with a severe asthma attack. Sheila’s daughter.’
Sandy drew her breath in sharply.
Poppy looked up at her friend. ‘Yeah, it was touch and go for a while there before Jake arrived. I had to cannulate.’ She looked at her hands, saw they were shaking and tucked them behind her back. ‘I’d rather have a problem in labour any day.’
Sandy reached into her pocket. ‘Time out, friend. Have a butterscotch.’ Poppy gave her a watery grin and took the sweet.
‘Thanks. I need a cup of tea, too. How’s the ward?’
By the time they were ready to go home, Poppy had stopped running the scene over in her mind to see if she should have done something differently. As she walked towards her bike she could see a figure that was becoming familiar standing outside the entrance to Casualty. She veered towards him.
‘Jake?’ What are you doing out here?’
He looked up, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Getting some air before I go over and see Amelia’s mother.’
Poppy felt the fear in her throat and forced the words out. ‘Amelia’s all right, isn’t she?’
‘She will be. Rest and Ventolin for the next couple of days should improve her.’ His gaze held hers. ‘You did a terrific job, Poppy. If I’d had to wait another few minutes, putting in the cannula, we may not have been so lucky.’ He hit one fist into his other hand. ‘People don’t realise how dangerous asthma is!’
His tone was forceful with disgust and Poppy couldn’t help thinking of the poor sister who hadn’t told him about resiting the cannula. She had a feeling the sister had copped it. But everyone was human and Poppy felt sorry for her. She sighed.
‘I’m tired. See you, Jake.’ She turned to go and she caught his movement as he pushed himself off the wall to follow her.
‘I’ll walk you to your bike.’
Poppy slanted a look up at him. ‘This is getting to be a habit.’
‘I’ve never liked a woman walking alone at night. It’s not safe. She should have a man to protect her.’
Poppy couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that slipped out. ‘Oh, spare me. I live on my own and walk myself to my bike every time I’m working late. Nothing’s ever happened to me and never will.’
A car passed and she saw the lift of one eyebrow at her comment. ‘My hero,’ she murmured facetiously under her breath, and smiled in the dark as she stopped beside her bike.
‘I heard that.’ He put his hand on her arm and pulled her to face him. ‘I could kiss you if I wanted to and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.’
She looked up at him and gave another gurgle of laughter. ‘Or I could kiss you and you wouldn’t know what hit you.’ She tilted her head and smiled at him. He was so old-fashioned. ‘Goodnight, Jake.’
* * *
Poppy parked her scooter under the carport and sat for a moment with her helmet off. She could feel her smile. Poppy knew she was playing with fire but it had been so long since she’d felt that sort of reaction to a man. It must be too long because she couldn’t remember it. Even with Tyson. She shook her head to get rid of the thought.
Men could turn their emotion on and off like a tap. Why couldn’t women? There’d been undercurrents there she couldn’t help noticing. Her heart felt like a burst water main.
She wasn’t going to become involved with a doctor. Especially not with another one who felt threatened by the true meaning of midwifery. Once had been enough. It had been the topic of the day when Dr Tyson Harvey had left his wife to run off with a consultant’s daughter.
Her first husband had been a smooth talker and too handsome. Just like this guy. When Tyson had wanted something, he’d gazed into her eyes and switched on his charm until she’d bent to his will. She’d tried to transform herself into the type of wife he’d wanted, but she’d always seemed to fail him. She hadn’t even realised she’d failed herself—until he’d left.
Poppy cringed. She wouldn’t set herself up like that again. Ever.
CHAPTER THREE
THE birthing unit was dimly lit and peaceful. The scent of lavender wafted lightly past Poppy from the aromatherapy vaporiser as she unhurriedly attended to the last-minute tasks before the baby’s birth. Soft rain-forest noises tinkled in the corner of the room from the CD player.
‘The bath water’s ready, Phillip.’ Poppy’s voice barely rose above the music as she dried her hands on a towel.
Followers of a Leboyer birth believed that the newborn benefited greatly from the return to weightlessness in the bath soon after delivery to allow a more gentle transition into the world. They believed this practice encouraged babies to be less stressed and more settled both in the immediate days following birth and in later life.
Poppy liked the idea but preferred no loss of contact from the mother once the child was born, usually leaving baby and mother skin to skin for at least an hour. It was her job to meet the needs of the parents to ensure they achieved as positive a birth experience as possible. As long as it was safe. If they wanted bath water, they got bath water.
Phillip, the father of the child, was stripped to the waist and lovingly held his wife’s shoulders as she bore down strongly with the contraction.
Poppy could see that Carolyn, the woman giving birth, was fiercely concentrating. She sat up with her arms under her thighs; the large blue beanbag supported her as she strained to see the child’s head reflected in the mirror at the end of the bed.
‘I can see it. Look. Black hair.’ Carolyn puffed.
Phillip and Poppy smiled at each other as Carolyn seemed to gain strength from the sight of her child easing its way down the birth canal.
Poppy savoured the aura of tranquillity they had created for the new arrival. This was midwifery at its least intrusive. If only the medical profession could have felt the ambience in the room she would have converted the lot of them.
Poppy heard a gentle knock and Jake’s head appeared around the door. She looked up and beckoned him in. This was in the safety of a hospital. Not a home. Surely he would see that nonintervention could be good and then he could help her convince the sceptics left in the hospital.
She fingered the peace sign around her neck. It gave her a thrill to see him. She hadn’t seen him for a week and he’d intruded on her thoughts
