The Baby Bonding

‘How’s it looking?’ he asked tersely.

‘Lousy. I can’t worry about the baby, I’m going to have to shock her,’ Matt said. ‘There’s still a chance we can get her back, and if this is drugs, the baby’s chances are pretty slight anyway.’

Sam nodded agreement and stood back, watching grimly as they fought—and failed—to save her.

He checked the clock on the wall and sighed. They’d been working on her for nearly half an hour, and there was no way the baby was still viable, he didn’t think.

He took the business end of the portable ultrasound and ran it over her abdomen, but the heartbeat they’d detected before was gone, just a shadow remaining to show the position of the heart. The baby itself was motionless.

‘Damn,’ he said under his breath, then straightened up. ‘OK, forget the baby. We’ve lost it.’

And not only the baby. Despite the continuous external cardiac massage, shocking her, ventilating her, injecting her heart with adrenaline, still they were unable to get her back.

With a muttered oath Matt Jordan stripped off his gloves and looked up at the clock. ‘OK, everybody. That’s enough. Agreed?’

They nodded. ‘Time of death ten thirty-eight,’ he said, and scrubbed a tired hand through his hair. ‘If only she’d stayed in yesterday, given us a chance to assess her.’

‘She didn’t. You can’t hold people against their will,’ Sam pointed out. ‘There are too many damned if onlys in this job.’

He stripped off his gloves and gown, and after attending to the necessary paperwork he headed back towards Maternity, sick with the tragic waste of two young lives. Maybe the post-mortem would reveal why she’d died, but in the meantime he needed to get back to the paperwork on his other patients, finish those letters off.

Then maybe he’d have time for coffee with Molly, if she was free.

He growled under his breath. Molly. She was all he could think about, all he could focus on. It was going to drive him mad, if he wasn’t there already.

‘Mr Gregory?’

He paused and turned, and there behind him was a man of his own age, the badge on his white coat declaring him to be Mr Nick Baker, Accident and Emergency Consultant. He’d seen him in Resus a few minutes ago, dealing with another patient. Now he’d followed him, for whatever reason.

‘Mr Baker—what can I do for you?’

‘It’s Nick.’

‘Sam.’ He shook the man’s hand, his eyes making a rapid inventory while he waited for him to come to the point. Slightly shorter than Sam, his hair was rumpled as if he’d run his hands through it, and he had laughter lines bracketing extraordinary blue eyes, but there was no laughter in evidence now. His smile was taut, and didn’t reach his eyes.

‘It’s about my wife—she’s a patient of yours. She was under Will Parry, but he moved away, so you’ve inherited her. I don’t know if you’ve seen her notes, but I just wanted to fill you in.’

‘Sure—of course. Is there something I should know?’

He nodded. ‘She—we—lost a baby eight, nearly nine years ago. She had a congenital heart defect, and she was born at thirty-two weeks. This is our first child since, and—uh—’

‘You’re worried.’

His smile was wry. ‘Yes—just a bit. Sally’s thirty-five weeks now, and she’s been scanned in London because of the problems the other baby had, and everything seems fine with this baby’s heart, but—well, you know what it’s like once you’ve had a setback of any sort, and seeing that girl in there just now…’