He heard a low moan of pain from behind the curtain.
‘What’s her name?’
Before Mandy could tell Elias he was already stepping into the cubicle.
And before Mandy said the name, he knew it.
‘Beth.’
She was sitting up, wearing a hospital gown, and there was a blanket over her. Her stunning red hair was worn up tonight but it was starting to uncoil and was dark with sweat. Her gorgeous almond-shaped eyes were for now screwed closed and she wore drop earrings in rose gold and the stones were rubies.
They were the same earrings she had worn the night they had met.
He could vividly remember stepping into her villa and turning the light on and watching the woman he had seen only in moonlight come into delicious colour—the deep red of her hair, the pale pink of her lips and eyes that were a pure ocean blue.
Now Valerie had her arm around Beth’s shoulders and was telling her to try not to push.
For Elias there was a moment of uncertainty.
Could Mandy find someone else perhaps? Could he swap with Roger?
Almost immediately he realised there was no choice. Being brought up to speed on Roger’s ill child, and having Roger brought up to speed on Beth, would lose vital minutes for both patients.
They were already stretched to the limit.
And from what Mandy had told him this baby was close to being born.
His baby?
He could not afford to think like that.
‘Beth,’ Valerie said. ‘Dr Santini is here...’
Yet her eyes had already opened and met his and recall was instant for she would remember that night for ever.
Not just the romance and kissing and not just the delicious love they had made.
But that the results of that night had torn her life and her family apart.
BETH FRANTICALLY SHOOK her head when she opened her eyes and saw that Elias was there but then she saw he was wearing navy scrubs.
Squinting, she read his name badge and it registered that he was the doctor who had been summoned to treat her.
She simply didn’t have the breath to speak yet, but she did not want to see him like this, or for him to find out he was about to become a father like this!
Everything was going wrong.
Rapidly so.
Fifteen minutes ago she had been patting herself on the back for a job well done and about to cross the street from the restaurant she had just left and head for the hotel. Now she stared into the eyes of her one and only one-night stand.
Elias.
All Beth wanted was to go back to the hotel and to wake up in the bed there and declare this a bad dream so she tried to climb from the gurney.
‘I want to go home.’
‘Beth, you need to lie back,’ Valerie said, and held her, but Beth shrugged off the arm and as she did so she lost the gown.
‘I can’t...’ Beth said, and she rattled at the side of the gurney. ‘I want to go back to the hotel. I want...’
Elias caught her hands. He recognised her anguish and knew enough to be sure that it was not simply down to his presence.
She was in a rapid, tumultuous labour and that was a very scary place to be.
‘You’re okay.’
His was the voice of reason and she wondered if he even recognised her, he was so completely calm when everything, everything, was going wrong.
As an events co-ordinator, Beth was here in London for the opening of Mr Costas’s London branch of his renowned restaurant.
He was her top client.
The night had gone beautifully and to plan. The restaurant had been filled mainly with friends and relations of Mr and Mrs Costas. Most had travelled to London for the occasion and, because she had liaised with a lot of the guests for a previous event, the opening night had been easy to organise. The hotel opposite the restaurant was hosting the guests and all had gone well.
It had only been at the very end of the night, as the last of the guests had left, that Beth had suddenly felt terribly warm.
She had been wearing a black light wool dress, sheer black tights and high heels and, despite it being a cold night in early January, she hadn’t put on her coat.
The cold air had been welcome on her burning cheeks and she had taken a moment to gulp it in. She had just started to walk when she’d felt a sharp pain in her back.
It was the high heels, Beth had decided, but the pain had been acute enough to stop her and, even though the pavement was wet, she had bent to take her shoes off.
The pain, though, as she’d bent over, had stretched from her back and wrapped around her stomach like a vice, and Beth had placed a hand over her bump and felt that it was hard and tight.
As the pain had passed she’d straightened up and leant against a wall, trying to get back her breath.
She’d been standing in stockinged feet, holding her shoes, when she had broken out into a cold sweat and suddenly felt as if she might vomit.
The hotel, even though it was just across the street, had seemed a very, very long way off.
It had happened as rapidly as that.
Beth had taken out her phone and stared at it, wondering who she should call, trying to fathom what to do. Should she call the hospital she was booked into?
But that was in Edinburgh.
Did she need an ambulance?
No, she decided.
The pain had gone now.
Was it perhaps the beginnings of an upset stomach?
She tried to console herself that it was that.
Even if it meant that all Mr Costas’s family and friends were bent over a toilet right now, somehow she convinced herself that she must have eaten something that had disagreed with her.
But then another pain came.
It wasn’t as severe as the first but it was way more than the practice contractions that the midwife at her last antenatal visit had told her to expect. Then she felt a pulling sensation low in her pelvis that had her gasp and it felt as if the baby had shifted lower and was pressing down.
She knew she had to get to hospital and she saw a taxi and stepped forward and hailed it. Thankfully he slowed down.
‘Can you take me to the nearest hospital?’ she asked.
‘The Royal?’
‘Please.’
Beth sat there with her heart hammering, telling herself she was overreacting and wondering who she could call.
Her parents?
Immediately she pushed that thought aside.
They were furious and deeply embarrassed that she was pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her for now.
Oh, her mother visited occasionally and came armed with knitted cardigans and booties, and her father had sent her a card with a long letter as well as a cheque to buy some essentials for the baby.
It wasn’t the child’s fault, he had said in his letter.
She