I don’t have to watch what I say. Why would you want to be a single mother?’
‘How do you know I’m not in a relationship?’ Louise said.
‘You just told me that you and Rory were only friends.’
‘Hah, but I could have an infertile partner at home.’
‘Do you?’
‘Lorenzo,’ Louise teased, kicking him gently with her foot. ‘And he’s very upset that he can’t give me babies.’
He knew she was joking, though he refused to smile, and he wanted to capture her foot as she prattled on.
‘Or,’ Louise continued, ‘I might be a lesbian in a very happy relationship and we’ve decided that we want to have a baby together.’ She loved how his lips twitched as she continued. ‘I’m the girly one!’
‘You’re not a very good lesbian,’ Anton said, ‘given the way that you flirt with me.’
‘Ha-ha.’ Louise laughed. ‘Seriously, Anton—’ and she was ‘—about seeing you privately. You’re right, I need to get an ultrasound and some bloods done. I’m going in circles on my own—fertility drugs, artificial insemination or IVF. I’m worried about twins or triplets or even more …’ Louise truly was. ‘I want someone who knows what they are doing.’
‘Of course you do,’ Anton agreed. ‘If you want, I can recommend someone to you. Richard here is excellent, I can speak with him and give you a referral and get you seen quickly—’ Anton started, but Louise interrupted him.
‘Why would I see someone else when we both know you’re the best?’ she pushed. ‘Look, I know we mess around …’
‘You mess around,’ Anton corrected.
‘Only at work.’
Louise was serious, Anton realised. She had that look in her eyes that Anton recognised on women who came to his office. It was a look that said she was determined to get pregnant, so he had no real choice now but to be honest.
No, this conversation wasn’t going well for him at all.
‘It would be unethical for me to see you,’ Anton said, and stood.
‘Unethical?’ Louise frowned. ‘What, because we work together?’
‘Professionally unethical,’ Anton said, and rolled his eyes as a delighted smile spread across her face. ‘I can’t say it any clearer than that.’
Ooooh!
She hugged the baby as Anton walked off.
‘He has got the hots for me,’ Louise whispered to the baby, and then let out a loud wolf whistle to Anton’s departing back.
No, Anton did not turn around but he did smile.
‘I NEED SOMEONE to buddy this,’ Beth called, and Louise went over to the nurses’ station to look at the CTG tracing of one of Beth’s patients.
The policy at The Royal was that only two experienced midwives could sign off on a tracing and so a buddy system was in place.
It was way more than a cursory look Louise gave to the tracing. They discussed it for a few moments, going over the recordings of the contractions and foetal heart rate before Louise signed off.
It was a busy morning and it sped by. At lunchtime, as Anton walked into the staffroom, had he had sunglasses then he would have put them on. There was a silver Christmas tree by the television and it was dressed in silver balls. There were silver stars hanging from the ceiling—really, there was silver everything hanging from every available space.
‘Have you been at the tinsel again?’ Anton said to Louise, who was eating a tuna salad.
‘I have. I just can’t help myself. I might have to go and speak with someone about my little tinsel problem—though I took up your suggestion and went with a theme in here!’
‘I cannot guess what it was.’
Anton chose to sit well away from her and, for something to do, rather than listen to all the incessant gossip, he picked up a magazine.
Oh, no!
There she was and Louise was right—the underwear was divine.
‘Christmas Holly’ said the title and there a stunning Louise was in the stockings she’d had on last night but now he got the full effect—bra, stockings and suspenders. Anton turned the page to the Mistletoe range, and the shots, though very lovely and very tasteful, were so sexy that Anton felt his body responding, like some sad old man reading a porn magazine, and he hastily turned to the problem page, just not in time.
Oh, God, he was thinking about swiping the magazine, especially when he glimpsed the Holly and the Ivy shots.
‘Ooooh.’ Louise looked over and saw what he was reading. ‘I’m in that one.’ She plucked it from his hands and knelt at the coffee table and turned to the section in the magazine as a little crowd gathered around.
She was so unabashed by it, just totally at ease with her body and its functions in a way that sort of fascinated Anton.
‘You’ve got a cleavage,’ Beth said, admiring the shot.
‘I know,’ Louise said. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’
‘But how?’
Anton closed his eyes. These were women who spent most of their days dealing with breasts and vaginas and they chatted with absolute ease about such things, an ease Anton usually had too, just not when Miss Louise was around.
‘Well,’ Louise said as Anton stared at the news, ‘they take what little I have and sort of squeeze it together and then tape it—there’s a lot of scaffolding under that bra,’ Louise explained. ‘Then they pad the empty part and then they edit out my nipples.’
‘Wow!’
‘I wish they were real,’ Louise sighed.
‘Would you ever get them done?’ Beth asked.
‘No,’ Louise said, as Anton intently watched the weather report. ‘I did think about it one time but, no, I’ll stick with what I’ve been given, which admittedly isn’t much. Hopefully they’ll be massive when I get pregnant and then breastfeed.’
‘Anton!’ Brenda popped her head in to save the day. ‘I’ve got the husband of one of your patients on the phone. Twenty-eight weeks, back pain …’
‘Who?’
‘Emily Linton.’
‘Merda.’ Anton cursed under his breath and
