and delivery, and beyond that, Theatre.
From the hub, they could see who was trying to buzz through the main doors to gain access to the ward, with the help of a security camera. They could also see the admissions boards, listing who was in which bed and what stage they were at.
There were usually thank-you cards there, perched on the desk, or stuck to the wall behind them, along with a tin or a box of chocolates kindly donated by a grateful family, and on the walls were some very beautiful black and white photographs of babies, taken by their very skilled photographer Addison.
Senior midwife Jules was leaning up against the hub, and she smiled when she saw Freya coming. ‘Here she is! Last but not least.’
Freya sidled in amongst the group, keeping her eyes down and trying desperately to blend in. She could feel all eyes upon her and folded herself down into a chair to make herself smaller. She had kept people waiting when they just wanted to go home.
She gratefully accepted a copy of the admissions sheet that Mona passed over to her.
‘It’s been a busy day today, and it looks like you girls aren’t going to have it easy tonight either. In the labour suite, we’ve got two labouring mums. In Bed One is Andrea Simpson—she’s a gravida one, para zero at term plus two days, currently at three centimetres dilated and comfortable, but she had a spontaneous rupture of membranes at home. She’s currently on the trace machine and will need to come off in about ten minutes. In Bed Two we have Lisa Chambers, she’s a gravida three, para four. Two lots of twins and currently about to deliver her first singleton baby. She’s had two previous elective Caesareans and is trying for a VBAC on this one.’
Freya nodded, scribbling notes. A VBAC was a vaginal birth after Caesarean—a ‘trial of scar’, as some people put it, to see if the mother could deliver vaginally.
‘She’s labouring fast. At six-thirty she was at six centimetres and she’s currently making do on gas and air.’
Freya sat and listened to the rest of Jules’s assessment. They had in total twenty-one patients: two on the labour ward, seven on Antenatal and twelve on Postnatal, five of whom were post-surgery.
And the phones would continue to ring. There would also be unexpected walk-ins, and no doubt A&E would send up one or two.
But she didn’t mind. Her job was her life. Her passion. The only thing that brought her real joy. It was all she’d ever wanted to be, growing up. A midwife and a mum. And, as of ten startling minutes ago, it looked as if she was going to achieve being both of those.
Freya was excellent at her job, and she truly believed she was only so good at it because it was something she adored doing. Every new baby born was a minor miracle. Every witnessed birth a joy and a privilege. Every moment she sat and held a mother’s hand through a contraction was another courageous moment.
It was a weird place, Maternity. A place where staff and patients met often for the first time, total strangers, and then just hours later Freya would know so much about a person—about their family, their hopes and dreams, their sense of humour, what their favourite foods were, what they craved, what they wanted to be, what they wanted to name their children...
She saw them at their worst, but more often at their best and bravest, and when her patients left Freya knew she would always be remembered as being a part of that family’s life. Someone who had shared in their most special and cherished moments. Never to be forgotten.
It was an immense responsibility.
Jules put down her papers. ‘Now, ladies, I want you to calm yourselves, but we have in our midst a new midwife! His name’s Jamie and he’s hiding at the back. Give us all a wave, Jamie!’
Jamie? No. Relax. It’s a common name.
Freya didn’t want to turn and look. She knew how that would make the poor guy feel, having all those women turning and staring at him, eyeing him up. But she knew that it would look odd if hers was the only head that didn’t turn. It would single her out. So she gave him a quick glance.
Lovely. No...wait a minute...
She whipped her head back round, her mind whirling, and pretended to scribble some more notes about what Jules had just reported on her sheet. But her pen remained still above the paper.
It’s him. It’s him! Oh, God, oh, God, oh...
Her trembling fingers touched her lips and her nausea returned in a torrent so powerful she thought she might be sick with nerves right there and then—all over Mona’s shoes. She wanted to get up and bolt. Run as fast as she could. But it was impossible.
She frantically eyed the spaces between the rows of staff and wondered how quickly she could make a break for it at the end of the briefing.
It couldn’t be possible. How could it be him? Her one-night stand.
‘Jamie is with us for a couple of months, filling in for Sandra who’s away on maternity leave, so I’d like to say welcome to the team, Jamie, it’s good to have you here. For the rest of you—Jamie has been working all over the country in various midwifery posts, so he’s got a lot of experience, and I hope you’ll all take the time to welcome him here, to Queen’s.’
Jules smiled.
‘Right, then. We’re all off. Have a good shift, ladies. And Jamie!’
She smiled, waved, and the majority of staff disappeared off to the locker room, to grab their things and go.
Freya, frozen to the spot, wished she could do the same.
Okay, so the simplest thing to do is to stay out of his way.
So far she’d done a sterling job of that.
Mona was showing him around, pointing out where everything was, getting him acquainted with the temperamental computer and how to admit people to the ward—that kind of thing. Freya, on the other hand, had just been given the task to introduce herself to the two labouring mothers and work on the labour ward—which she was very happy about because that gave her the opportunity to stay in her patients’ rooms and not see or have to engage with him.
The irony of the situation was not lost on her. The first time they had met she had been brimming with temporary confidence, an urge to experience life again as a normal woman meeting a handsome guy at a party. But now she was back to reality. Hiding and skulking around corners, trying her best to avoid him. The man she’d propositioned.
And what the hell were the odds of him turning up on the very same day that she took a pregnancy test? It had to be millions to one, didn’t it? Or at the very least a few hundred thousand to one?
Jules had said he’d been working in various posts around the country. Why hadn’t he got a job at one of those? Why did he keep moving?
What’s wrong with him?
The weight of the pregnancy test in her left pocket seemed to increase, its weight like a millstone.
She entered Andrea Simpson’s room quietly.
‘Hello, it’s Andrea, isn’t it? I’m Freya and I’m going to be your midwife tonight.’
She smiled at her new
