into her phone, and it looked as if she was listening to her notes and then typing them up a few words at a time. Oliver knew from reading Ella’s file that she was dyslexic; he assumed that this was the way she’d learned to manage it, and it was also the reason why she wore coloured glasses when she was reading notes or sitting at a computer.
He rapped on the glass panel of the door to get her attention, then opened it and leaned round it. ‘Hi. I hear you just had a baby with shoulder dystocia.’
She nodded. ‘There were absolutely no signs of it beforehand. The baby weighed three and a half kilograms and the mum didn’t have gestational diabetes.’
‘Prediction models aren’t much help, as they’re based on the baby’s actual weight rather than the predicted weight, so don’t blame yourself for it. In half of shoulder dystocia cases, we don’t have a clue in advance, plus not all of them are big babies or from diabetic mothers,’ Oliver said. ‘How did it go?’
‘Fine. As soon as I realised what was happening, I asked Jennie to get Charlie, the anaesthetist and the neonatal specialist. The McRoberts manoeuvre didn’t quite work so I had to give her an episiotomy and guide the baby out, but the baby was fine and there’s no sign of a brachial plexus injury. I’m going to keep an eye on Sophie—the mum—for postpartum haemorrhage.’
‘Good job.’ She looked so tired right now, Oliver thought. Having to concentrate on typing must be hard for her. ‘Do you want a hand filling in the shoulder dystocia form?’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I’m not that hopeless, Oliver.’
And then the penny dropped. She obviously worried that people thought she was less than capable because of her dyslexia. Maybe in the past people had treated her as if she was stupid; that would explain why she’d overreacted to him buying the folic acid, because it had made her feel that he thought she was stupid.
‘You’re not hopeless at all, but you look tired,’ he said, ‘and filling in forms is a hassle even if you don’t have to struggle with dyslexia as well.’ He remembered what Ella’s tutor said in her reference: ignore the exam results because Ella was an excellent midwife and could always tell you every last detail of a case. It just took her a lot longer than most to write it up. The exams must’ve been a real struggle for her, even if she’d been given extra time or the help of a scribe during the papers. And yet she’d never once given up. ‘You could always dictate it to me and I’ll type it up for you,’ he suggested.
She narrowed her eyes even further. ‘Would you make the same offer to anyone else on your team?’
She was worried about him showing favouritism towards her because of the baby? ‘Actually, yes, I would,’ he said. ‘That’s the point. We’re a team, at Teddy’s. And I’m responsible for my team’s well-being. Which includes you.’ He pulled up a chair next to her, brought the keyboard in front of him and angled the screen so they could both see it. ‘Right. Tell me what to type.’
Again she looked wary, and he thought she was going to argue with him; but then she nodded and dictated everything to him. Just as he’d expected, she was meticulous and accurate.
‘Thank you,’ she said when he’d finished typing.
‘Any time. You know your stuff and you pay attention to our mums, so you made that really easy for me.’ But she looked so tired, almost forlorn, and it worried him. He wanted to make things better. Now. He gave in to the impulse and rested his palm against her cheek. ‘Tell me what you need.’
‘Need?’
Her pupils were suddenly huge and his mouth went dry. Was she going to say that she needed him? Because, right now, he needed her, too. Wanted to hold her. Wanted to kiss her.
When she said nothing, he rubbed his thumb lightly against her skin. ‘Cup of tea? Sandwich? Because I’m guessing the staff kitchen is a no-go area for you right now.’
‘I’d love a cup of tea,’ she admitted. ‘And a sandwich. Anything really, really bland.’
‘Give me five minutes,’ he said. ‘And, for the record, I’m not trying to be bossy. You’ve had a busy shift with a tough delivery, and I bet you haven’t had the chance of a break today. I want to be there for you and our baby, Ella.’
* * *
He’d said the magic word, Ella thought as she watched Oliver leave the office. ‘Our’, not ‘my’. So maybe she wasn’t going to have to fight him for her independence.
He came back with the perfect cup of tea, a cheese sandwich and an apple that he’d cored and sliced for her. Ella felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh, Oliver.’
‘Don’t cry.’
But she couldn’t stop the tears spilling over. He wrapped his arms round her, holding her close and making her feel cherished and protected, and that only made her want to cry more.
Hormones, that was all it was. And if someone came into the office and saw them, people might start to talk. Although Ella dearly wanted to stay in his arms, she wriggled free. ‘Oliver. People are going to start gossiping if they see us like this.’
‘No—they’ll think you’re tired after a long shift, and I’m doing exactly what I would for any colleague. Being supportive.’
‘I guess.’ She paused. ‘I’ve got an appointment through for the scan.’
He went very still. ‘Are you asking me to come with you?’
‘If you want to.’
There was a brief flash of hunger in his eyes. Did that mean he wanted to be there, or did he think it was his duty? She didn’t have a clue how he felt about her, and she wasn’t ready to ask—just in case the answer was that he saw it as his duty.
‘But if anyone asks why, it’s because you’re supporting your colleague,’ she said. ‘I’m not ready for the world to know about—well.’ She shrugged. There wasn’t an ‘us’. What should she call it? A fling? A mistake? The most stupid thing she’d ever done in her life?
And yet the end result had been something she’d always thought was beyond her reach. The most precious gift of all. Something that made her heart sing every time she thought about the baby.
‘Noted,’ he said, his voice expressionless. ‘What time?’
‘Eleven.’
‘I’ll be there,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to meet you in the waiting area outside the ultrasound room, or here?’
‘I think the waiting area would be best.’ If they went together from here, their colleagues were bound to start speculating, and she really didn’t want that. Not until she knew what was really happening between her and Oliver.
‘All right.’
‘I guess I’d better finish writing up my notes,’ she said. ‘And then I want to check on Sophie—the mum—to see how she and the baby are doing. And I promised to give a hand with putting up the Christmas decorations in the reception area.’
‘I’ll let you get on, then.’ For a moment, he looked as if he was going to say something
