and carry on with what had already worked once.
‘Yes,’ he said clearly. ‘I’m the father.’
Somebody dropped something metallic on the far side of the room and the sound rang out in the suddenly still moment following his statement. Jet uttered a low profanity but his gaze was still fixed on the monitor and the sound could well have been taken to be concern at a new development in Ellie’s condition. Max was close enough to speak to his friend without being overheard by anyone else.
‘I’ll explain later,’ he murmured. ‘Just back me up.’
The clerk was happy, scribbling on the sheet of paper attached to the clipboard. ‘Surname?’ she chirped briskly.
Oh, Lord. If she got registered under her real name, they have to deal with Marcus Jones turning up and he’d have plenty of time to get here. Even if things went better than any of them could expect in this room, there was no way Ellie would be getting discharged in a hurry.
There was no time to think. In for a penny, in for a pound.
‘McAdam,’ he said wearily. ‘We’re married.’
The nurse, who was sticking on the leads required for a twelve-lead ECG, looked up, open-mouthed, and others exchanged astonished glances but the clerk knew she was on a roll.
‘How old is your wife?’
‘Twenty-eight.’
‘Date of birth?’
As if he’d know. This had gone far enough. Far too far, judging by the look Jet slanted his way.
‘Leave it,’ Max growled. ‘We can sort the paperwork later.’
‘But we need—’
‘Get out,’ Jet snapped. ‘We’re busy.’ He looked up, avoiding Max but catching most others in the room as he issued his orders.
‘I’m going to intubate,’ he warned. ‘Oxygen saturation levels have fallen far enough. We need a central venous line in. And an arterial line.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Max offered.
Jet gave his head a negative jerk. ‘On your wife? I don’t think so.’ He nodded at his registrars, giving them the signal to get started. ‘Get some bloods off as well. We need to know her blood group. Stat.’
‘I’d like a rhesus factor and antibodies, too.’ The obstetric consultant was watching the technician begin the ultrasound examination. ‘Looks like we’ve got a central placenta praevia here and she’s in labour. Fully dilated.’
Less than an hour later, in the middle of the life-and-death battle to save Ellie Peters, she gave birth to a tiny baby girl.
There was a paediatric team amongst the crowd in Trauma One now. And a consultant from the intensive care unit, who was a specialist in dealing with haemorrhagic shock resulting from such massive blood loss. Ellie was being cared for. The baby was being carefully assessed.
Having been forced onto the sidelines due to his own admission of involvement, there seemed to be nothing for Max to do other than watch. He was torn between watching the monitors to evaluate the success of the treatment Ellie was receiving and staring at the scrap of humanity the paediatric consultant was bent over.
‘She’s small but doing OK,’ she pronounced eventually. ‘I’m happy with her breathing but the heart rate’s a bit on the slow side. Did I hear someone say the father is here?’
Ellie was deeply unconscious. The obstetrician was happy that the bleeding had ceased now that delivery was complete but the control of the blood loss might have come too late. The mother of this tiny baby was now on a ventilator to manage what looked like adult respiratory distress from fluid loss. Jet and the ICU consultant were worried about her kidneys. Her production of urine had virtually ceased and her most recent blood test showed deterioration in renal function.
Max had done what he’d thought was the right thing in continuing the pretence that he was the baby’s father and he couldn’t back out now. Jet wouldn’t say anything because he’d asked him to back him up and the brotherhood that they made up, along with Rick, was glued together with a loyalty that would never be broken. There were plenty of other people ready to say something, however. To point him out and draw him into the case that this department would be talking about for a very long time.
‘You’re the father?’ The paediatrician didn’t know him so there was no undertone of astonishment. ‘Good. Come with us. We’re going to take your daughter upstairs and she’ll need you.’
Max took a step towards the group looking after the baby. And then another. And then he stopped.
‘I can’t…’ He looked over his shoulder at Ellie. And then back to the baby, now dried and wrapped in soft, warm towels. What the hell had he got himself into here?
Jet’s voice was calm. ‘Nothing you can do for Ellie at the moment, mate,’ he said. ‘We’re going to transfer her up to ICU very soon. Best you go with the baby. I’ll come and update you as soon as I can.’
And wherever the baby was being taken, whether it was a maternity ward or the paediatric ICU, it would be a more private place, Jet’s tone suggested. They would be able to talk about this. Hopefully, they might even be able to sort out the mess Max had created.
It seemed a reasonable plan. Max wasn’t due on duty here in the emergency department until first thing tomorrow morning. They had a whole night to sort things out. Stepping back from taking any responsibility for Ellie might be a good first step. He took another step towards the baby and nodded.
‘Let’s go,’ he agreed.
‘How would you feel about holding her?’
‘Ah…I’m not sure that’s a great idea right now, is it?’
The paediatrician also took another glance at the monitor where the newborn baby’s heart rate was slowing down yet again.
‘It could help. Have you heard of kangaroo care?’
‘No.’ Max was staring at the baby in the plastic crib. It was lying on its side, a soft white hat covering the dark whorls of hair on its head. One arm was bent, a tiny starfish hand resting on its cheek.
Max hadn’t spent this long in the company of a baby this small…ever. He’d participated in a fair few deliveries, of course, throughout his training and then in a short run on O and G but it was a rare occurrence in Emergency and the babies were always whisked off to places like this paediatric intensive care unit. He’d never had a reason to stay involved. He didn’t now, except as a fraud.
He shouldn’t really be here at all.
‘It’s been around since the late seventies,’ the paediatric consultant broke into his guilt. ‘But it’s gaining quite a following. It’s basically skin-to-skin contact with a parent. As long as the infant is medically stable, there’s no reason not to use it and it’s been shown to improve oxygenation and respiratory rates. It can actually make a significant difference to something like bradycardia.’
‘Skin-to-skin?’ Max
