Always the Midwife. Alison Roberts

but you should know that if you want to have kids some time in the future then I’m not the woman for you’? Or did you wait until things got serious and then field the repercussions of someone feeling a bit cheated? Deceived, even.

      Yes. Emily’s glance was sympathetic. But there was something else there, too. Encouragement?

      ‘What does it matter if it did start out as a bit of a joke?’ she said. ‘Isn’t the whole idea to have fun? To let your hair down a bit and enjoy the best of what life has to offer that doesn’t have anything to do with work? It doesn’t ever have to be anything serious.’

      You don’t have to marry the guy. Was that code for ‘You don’t have to even tell him’?

      ‘How many guys do we know who have no intention of getting serious?’ she added. ‘They’re just out to have fun. We could learn something from those guys.’

      ‘Like Alessi.’ Darcie nodded. ‘Oops … sorry, Isla, but he was a terrible flirt and nobody lasted more than one night. Until you, of course …’

      ‘Not a good example,’ Emily chided. ‘But you’re right. Soph could use a bit of that attitude and just get out there and enjoy herself with some attractive male company.’

      Sophia found herself nodding. And hadn’t she just made a silent vow that very afternoon that something needed to change in her life? Maybe she wouldn’t have to give too much thought to what that something was.

      ‘Maybe I will,’ she said aloud. ‘Not that there’s anyone around who’s offering the company.’

      ‘The hot paramedic did. You’re probably putting anyone off asking by sending out I’m not available vibes. Change your attitude and they’ll be around in droves. You might even meet him again.’

      Sophia laughed. ‘I don’t think so.’ But she reached for her glass of champagne, feeling lighter in spirit than she had for a long time. ‘But, hey … I’ll give it a go. The next time I get asked out—especially if it’s the hot paramedic—I’ll say yes.’

      ‘Promise?’ Emily raised her glass to clink it against Sophie’s. The other women followed her example and the glasses met in a circle over the centre of the table.

      ‘I promise,’ Sophie said.

       CHAPTER THREE

      HE HAD THE best job in the world, no doubt about it.

      Aiden was rolling slowly, the red and blue lights on his handlebars flashing as he eased through the crowds on Southbank. The wide, paved area on the south side of the Yarra River offered spectacular views of the river and city from cafés, restaurants and upmarket hotels.

      The gorgeous autumn afternoon had tourists and locals enjoying the exercise, food and entertainment. A juggler had attracted a good crowd and so had an old aboriginal man playing a didgeridoo. Aiden could hear the hollow, haunting notes of the music over the bike’s engine. He angled his path to avoid smudging the work of a street artist who was working with chalk and then he could see his destination. Another huddle of people, but they weren’t there for entertainment. He’d been called to a woman who’d collapsed on one of the riverside benches beneath the trees.

      ‘I’ve put her in the recovery position,’ a man told Aiden as soon as he’d propped the bike up on its stand. ‘I did a first-aid course last year.’

      ‘Good work.’ He flipped up the chinguard of his helmet. ‘Did anyone see what happened?’

      ‘She was walking around, looking weird,’ someone else offered. ‘Like she was drunk. And then she sat down and just toppled sideways.’

      Aiden had reached the unconscious woman. He stripped off his gloves, tilted her head to make sure her airway was open and then felt for a pulse in her neck. It was there. Rapid and faint enough to suggest low blood pressure. Her skin felt cool and clammy. He shook her shoulder.

      ‘Hello? Can you hear me? Open your eyes, love.’

      No response. Aiden looked up. ‘Does anyone know this woman? Was she with someone?’

      There was a general sound of denial and shaking of heads. Aiden checked for a MedicAlert bracelet or necklace as he ran through the possible causes of unconsciousness in his head. He couldn’t smell any alcohol and there was no sign of any head trauma. The woman was young, probably in her early thirties. This could be due to epilepsy or drugs or diabetes. At least he could eliminate one of the possible causes easily. Unrolling a kit, he took a small lancet, pricked the woman’s finger and eased the drop of blood onto a testing strip for a glucometer. He also reached for his radio to give Dispatch an update. Whatever was going on, here, this young woman would need transport to hospital.

      The glucometer beeped and it was a relief to see that the reading was low. Hypoglycaemia certainly fitted with the limited information he’d been given of her appearing drunk and then collapsing. It also fitted the physical signs of the clammy skin, rapid heart rate and a low blood pressure. Back-up was on the way but it would take time to get a stretcher through the crowds from the nearest point an ambulance could park and Aiden had everything he needed to start treatment.

      IV access was the first priority and there were plenty of willing hands to hold up the bag with the glucose infusion. He got the small cardiac monitor out of one of the panniers on the back of his bike as well. It had only been a few days ago that he’d read an interesting article suggesting that sudden death in young diabetics could be due to cardiac problems from electrolyte disturbances.

      The glucose infusion was working its magic well before he started attaching electrodes. The young woman opened her eyes, blinked a couple of times and then groaned.

      ‘Oh, no … it happened again, didn’t it?’

      ‘I’m Aiden, a paramedic. What’s your name, love?’

      ‘Hayley. I …’ She looked up at the crowd of onlookers. ‘Oh … God … this is so embarrassing.’

      ‘You’re diabetic?’

      ‘Yeah … I knew I needed to eat. That’s why I came along here. I was heading for the food court in Southgate. It came on so suddenly …’

      Aiden could see an ambulance crew manoeuvring a stretcher through the crowd. More people were stopping to stare, wondering what was going on. No wonder the poor girl was embarrassed. The sooner they got her into the privacy of the back of an ambulance, the better.