Elizabeth Foster.
He saw that she was now twenty-three and that she lived in Edinburgh, though when he had met her Beth had lived in Dunroath, a small fishing village on the east coast of Fife.
And she had put Rory as her next of kin.
He knew that was her ex.
Maybe they were back together?
Perhaps the baby wasn’t even his.
Elias knew that she was, though, and not just from the dates.
Beth had made a comment on the night they had met about being a ‘daughter of the manse’.
He hadn’t known what it had meant then.
He knew what it meant now—her father was a minister and very strict.
Elias guessed that these past months would have pretty much been hell for her.
He wrote up his patient notes.
Presented to Accident and Emergency department at 29/40 gestation.
And he wrote about the rapid delivery and all that had happened and that she had been transferred to St Patrick’s for postnatal care.
And then he went to the other patient that required a signature.
There were rather a lot of forms to fill in when it came to a new life.
Baby Foster.
Born 29/40 weeks gestation.
Precipitate labour, rapid delivery.
One-minute Apgar score: 7
His hand was shaking as he wrote because the ramifications were just starting to hit him.
Not just that he had become a father.
The second in line to the throne had just delivered the third in line to the throne.
The palace always announced the delivering doctor.
He could see the headlines and the chaos the press would make of the circumstances tonight.
All this he was starting to envision but not quite, because all he could really see in his mind’s eye was the sight of the baby. Her tiny head and flaccid limbs. The little tufts of red hair and that she had been struggling to breathe. How her eyes had closed and her nostrils had flared as her tiny mouth had blown bubbles.
What the hell was he doing here?
Elias was closer to tears than he had ever been in his life and panic was building as he placed his head in his hands.
‘Are you okay?’ Roger checked.
He too knew how hard it was to work when you had just been informed of a personal crisis.
‘Not really,’ Elias said, and he took a steadying breath and told himself that Beth and the baby were in good hands—but he needed to see that for himself.
Then came the words that he had waited to hear.
‘Raj is here.’
‘Thank you.’
The department was covered.
Elias walked briskly around to the on-call room and pulled off his scrubs and runners and changed into black jeans and a jumper and pulled on his boots and jacket.
Then he turned off the white-noise machine and walked out.
The man was still singing ‘I Belong to Glasgow’ as he walked through the observation room and then stepped out of the fire exit and into the night.
His baby would belong to Medrindos.
If he told his family what was happening huge wheels would be set in instant motion. There would be lawyers and background checks immediately commenced on Beth. He would be told to step back and let the palace handle things from here.
A princess had just been born and Beth didn’t even know that he was royal.
Elias had chosen not to tell her that night.
He knew it was his baby.
Not because of some instant connection or primal instinct that the child was his.
But because he had got to know Beth that night.
Whatever the palace or her family might make of their encounter, no matter how they might deem it a one-night stand, he knew what a rare gift it had been.
For both of them.
IT HAD ALL gone perfectly.
George and Voula Costas had just celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary on the Greek island where they had grown up and married.
The surprise party had been organised by Beth.
Months of preparation had come together and as Beth walked into her villa and closed the door behind her she was smiling as she kicked off her sandals.
The waiter had sent her home with a large cocktail in a plastic glass and she was looking forward to simply unwinding after an exhausting couple of days.
It was a hot night and she turned the fan on above her bed. She peeled off the smart linen shift dress she had worn tonight and let down her hair, shaking it loose, happy with how the night had gone.
She was just about to lie down when the phone rang.
She had known that it would soon ring.
It would be her father, calling to check how the night had gone. Or rather he would use that as an excuse to check she was safely home.
For a moment Beth had considered not answering it.
She was twenty-two years old after all.
England was two hours behind Greece and she could imagine her father pacing and waiting to make the call. If she didn’t answer, he and her mother would stress and try again. It was easier all round to answer, and, she told herself, it was no big deal, so she picked up the receiver.
‘Hi, Dad,’ Beth said.
‘How did you know it was me?’ Donald sounded surprised.
She could have answered that it had to be him because it was too late for Housekeeping and anyone else would have called her on her mobile!
Of course her father would say it was too expensive to make an international call on the mobile but Beth knew he had called her on the landline to check she was safely in for the night.
‘Just a good guess,’ Beth answered as she rolled her eyes.
She tried not to be cross. After all, it was her first time overseas and she had recently broken up with her long-term boyfriend, Rory, which had caused a lot of upset all around.
‘Your mother and I just wanted to know how the night went. Was Voula surprised?’
‘She certainly was.’
‘You don’t think she’d guessed what George was planning?’
‘No.’ Beth shook her head and found she was smiling. ‘She really didn’t have a clue.’
They chatted for a few moments and Beth actually enjoyed doing so.
Her father knew the Costases and many of the people who had attended tonight. While he might not be happy that his daughter was overseas, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested in how things had gone.
The call ended very amicably and Beth lay on the bed but the happy buzz that had followed her into the villa had dispersed.
She loved her parents a lot but she felt stifled by them.
Her father was a minister and,