Putting her excitement aside, Claire covered the wet newborn in a warmed blanket and helped Shirley to the bed. The job wasn’t finished yet. The cord had stopped pulsing so she clamped it and showed Graham how to cut it. She administered an intramuscular injection of a drug that stimulated uterine contraction, and then she delivered the placenta.
Frivolity, excitement and laughter ebbed and flowed around her as Claire completed her responsibilities. Campbell sat on the bed with the new parents, admiring the latest addition to their family. Claire watched him surreptitiously. It was good to see the grin couldn’t be wiped from his face either. It made her own smile even bigger.
A quiet knock at the door interrupted the celebrations. It was Valerie Baines. She was one of the centre’s midwives who’d come in especially today to attend a training course. She’d been out to lunch.
‘Oh! I leave you alone for an hour and you deliver our very first baby!’ she exclaimed.
‘A breech, too,’ said Claire.
‘Such clever people,’ she teased, and joined in the excited gathering, cooing at the baby and congratulating everyone.
‘This requires a celebration,’ Valerie declared half an hour later after the paperwork had been completed and the room put to rights. ‘Let’s crack open that bottle of champagne we’ve been keeping for this occasion.’ She ran off to get it.
She returned with the chilled bottle and five glasses. They clinked them together and toasted the baby—David John Miller. The newborn slept peacefully in his father’s arms. He’d had a tough day, too. They also toasted Claire and Campbell and the birth centre.
‘To you.’ Campbell raised his glass to Claire as Valerie helped Shirley to the shower, husband in tow.
Claire stroked her finger down the soft red cheek of baby David. ‘Ditto.’ She smiled and they grinned at each other like idiots. Claire felt the attraction between them treble. She was in real trouble! ‘You know Martin is going to have a fit over this, don’t you?’
‘Let him,’ he said and laughed. They toasted that as well.
Claire had to admit that working beside Campbell had been exhilarating. She’d seen another side to the man who had pursued her so persistently. The dedicated doctor. Cool and calm in a situation that would have tested most doctors’ mettle. And he wasn’t afraid to get on his haunches to deliver a baby. She felt her admiration for him rise and mix with her burgeoning attraction. The champagne must have gone to her head.
Campbell stared at the very different Claire in front of him. Her cheeks glowed and her brown eyes were as tempting as the expensive chocolates he’d been sending her. For once he could read everything in their sweet depths. She wanted him. It was there, as plain as day. He should have plied her with champagne a month ago.
‘Have dinner with me tonight.’ He held his breath.
‘OK.’ She grinned. Yup. It had definitely gone to her head.
CLAIRE sat beside the bed, holding her mother’s bony, frail hand. Her thumb stroked rhythmically over the papery skin. Right here in front of her lay the reason that a relationship with any man was impossible.
The clock in the lounge room chimed seven, breaking into her reverie. Time to go. She leaned forward and gently kissed her mother’s cheek. Mary didn’t stir.
‘I’d better go, Dad,’ she said, locating her father in his bedroom, watching the evening news.
‘Goodnight, darling.’ He smiled his gentle smile. ‘Claire …’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t mean to interfere … but … you know you don’t have to come home tonight. I can manage just fine.’
‘Dad,’ she joked in mock horror. ‘You’re not suggesting I spend the night with this man on the first date?’
He smiled, a rare occasion of late. ‘Seriously, darling, it’s been years since you’ve been on a date. I want you to enjoy yourself for a change.’
‘I have to be here in the morning, Dad. She expects me.’
‘She’s not your responsibility, Claire.’
‘Dad … she’s my mother.’
‘You’re young, you’re supposed to be selfish and irresponsible. I can manage.’
‘I know but … she’ll fret if I’m not here.’
‘Darling, she probably won’t even be aware.’ His voice cracked and Claire had to swallow hard.
‘She’ll know,’ Claire insisted. She walked into the room and kissed him on the head. ‘I’ve got my mobile. Call me if you need to. I mean it, Dad. Anything. See you in the morning.’
Claire pulled out of her driveway, her mind preoccupied with her mother’s illness and her father’s devotion. He deserves a medal, she thought as she pulled up at the lights. She chewed absently at the inside of her lip, worrying about the future.
She gave herself a mental shake as the car behind her hooted to let her know that the light had turned green. Her thoughts should be on the evening ahead and Campbell. If she was going to worry about anything tonight, it should be him.
He’d wanted to come and pick her up but she had insisted on going to the restaurant independently.
‘Is that so you can make a fast getaway?’ he had asked.
‘Huh! My plan is foiled,’ she had quipped, and he had laughed and left it alone.
Not for the first time, she admonished herself for her rash acceptance of his invitation. Once the euphoria from little David’s birth had ebbed, her doubts had resurfaced. She’d even attempted to page him and cancel, but he must have already left for the day.
If she had known his home phone number she would have tried him there. But she didn’t, so here she was, feeling rather like she was driving to her doom instead of a pleasant evening with a nice man.
Her gaze fell on her mobile phone and she pushed aside the temptation to ring the restaurant and cancel through a third party, like a coward. She also quelled the urge to just drive around for a few hours and then go home.
Stand him up? After he’d hunkered down on his hands and knees in a pool of amniotic fluid and helped her deliver a baby? And not just any baby, but one that a lot of obstetricians would have baulked at delivering. That seemed pretty churlish.
So. She’d go. As a thank you and nothing else. She’d be polite and companionable and beat a hasty retreat as soon as was possible. Easy. Simple.
And if her thoughts turned fanciful, all she need do was picture her mother. Remember her just as she had left her this evening, lying in bed, ravaged by a cruel disease, waiting to die. That should do it.
Claire arrived at the restaurant only a little late. She hadn’t really known what to expect. She’d assumed it would be something posh and a la carte. So to find a small Italian joint off the beaten track was a pleasant surprise.
Claire had been unsure what to wear so had decided on a very plain sleeveless linen shift dress with a modest neckline and an even more modest hemline, falling below the knee. She had chosen it because of its simplicity. She hadn’t wanted to wear anything too provocative and give Campbell the wrong idea.
If she’d known that the moment she’d slipped it over her head the dress went from simple to sexy, she’d never have worn it. It was the colour. A bright fire-engine red, which complemented her olive skin and accentuated the richness of her black hair. The colour naturally drew attention but, once gained, the vision of her in it was one not easy to forget.