Following an uneventful pregnancy, Alison had arrived at the birthing centre in active labour. But while checking the foetal heart-rate Freya had realised something was terribly wrong.
Alison had been transferred to the attached hospital and a crash Caesarean had been performed. The little boy had been resuscitated and then transferred to Edinburgh, where there had been a NICU cot available.
He’d been beautiful and utterly perfect. A chunky baby, with long, dark lashes, big cheeks and pudgy hands. But the lack of oxygen from cord compression and subsequent meconium aspiration had left him severely brain damaged.
Despite best efforts Andrew had died two days later, leaving Alison, her husband Callum and their families shattered.
Freya had been his godmother and proxy aunt, and she still woke regularly from nightmares, with the ominous sound of the CTG bleeping seeming to fill her bedroom. It felt as if her chest was being crushed whenever she recalled the devastation on Alison’s face when it had become clear that things were going terribly wrong.
‘Freya?’ Alison had pleaded.
The fear in Alison’s voice was something that Freya would never be able to erase from her memory.
Alison had never blamed Freya. In fact she had drawn on her friend, and Freya had stayed strong for Alison even through a serious relationship break-up.
And now, not by a flicker did she reveal her own heartache as she focussed on her patient and the little life beneath her hands.
‘Everything’s looking grand,’ Freya said as she felt the baby’s position. ‘The head is down and baby is a good size.’
‘Aye.’
For Freya, the real beauty of working at Cromayr Bay was the chance to really get to know her patients and their families, and now, after being more than willing to chat about Alison’s pregnancy, Mrs Roberts’s short response when discussing her own, concerned Freya.
It wasn’t just that, though. Over the months Freya had been trying to gauge Mrs Roberts’s feelings.
This pregnancy had come close after the birth of twins, but Mrs Roberts insisted it was all part of the plan as she wanted her children to be near each other in age.
Freya was quite certain that Mrs Roberts was struggling, but she was a very proud and private woman. Earlier, though, she’d seemed more talkative, and Freya wondered if she actually wanted to speak to her.
Jamie, the eldest, was getting restless, and the twins were going through their mother’s handbag. Freya was in no doubt that Mrs Roberts would want to dash off as soon as her appointment was done.
As she went to the desk to write up her findings Mrs Roberts dressed and then came over and took a seat.
‘Jamie!’ She scolded her son, who had pulled over a jar of cotton balls. ‘I’m so sorry, Freya.’
‘It’s not a problem. I shouldn’t have left them at a three-year-old’s level.’ As Mrs Roberts went to retrieve them Freya stopped her. ‘He might as well play with them,’ she said—not just because the cotton balls would now have to be discarded, but also because it might keep Jamie amused for a few minutes.
‘He’s into everything,’ Mrs Roberts explained. ‘I need eyes in the back of my head.’
‘You’re certainly going to be busy when the new baby comes,’ Freya agreed. ‘Is there anyone who might be able to help once the baby is here?
‘Och, I’ll not be bothering others. I just have to get on with things.’ Mrs Roberts straightened herself in the chair.
Freya felt for her. She too was very private.
With two younger brothers, Freya had always been ‘the sensible one’. Her mother, Jean, had relied on her to look out for the boys and soothe their hurts rather than her own.
As Freya wrote up her notes she thought how she came across to her patient. Her long dark curls were pulled back into a ponytail and she knew that her green eyes could sometimes come across as guarded rather than shy. She was a quiet person, and that generally suited her patients just fine.
However, like Mrs Roberts, Freya could appear a touch aloof at times—abrupt, even—although not, she hoped, with her patients. And, while she tended not to chat too much about herself, that wasn’t an issue in Cromayr Bay, where everyone knew everyone else’s business anyway.
But Freya wanted to reach her patient and to be sure that she was coping, so she decided to open up a little to Mrs Roberts in the hope that the woman would reciprocate.
‘Actually,’ Freya said, ‘although I’m telling everyone that I’m excited about moving to London, I’m really quite nervous. It’s a big hospital and I shan’t know anyone.’
‘You’ll be fine...’ Mrs Roberts started, and then paused as Freya gently spoke on.
‘I expect everyone is asking if you’re excited now that the baby will soon be here?’
Mrs Roberts nodded. ‘“Not long now!”’ She mimicked the regular phrases being thrown daily her way. ‘“You’ll be hoping for a girl after three boys.”’
‘Are you?’ Freya asked. She knew the sex of the baby.
‘Of course not. I didn’t get pregnant to try for a girl. In fact, I didn’t...’ It was the closest Mrs Roberts had come to admitting the pregnancy had been an accident, but she quickly rallied. ‘Healthy will suit me just fine.’
‘Of course,’ Freya agreed, and Mrs Roberts changed the subject.
‘So you’re nervous about leaving?’
‘Terrified,’ Freya now admitted. ‘And I’m wondering how I’m going to fit in.’
‘You’ll fit in just fine.’
‘I hope so,’ Freya replied. ‘But I’m starting to think I’ve made a mistake.’
‘Well, I know that feeling.’
Freya watched as Mrs Roberts closed her eyes and finally admitted the truth. ‘It’s not that I don’t want it—well, I’m sure I will once the baby’s here. I just honestly don’t know how I’m going to cope. The twins are into everything and Jamie runs wild. Davey’s no help. Och, he tries—but he’s out the door for work at seven, then not back until six and wanting his supper. I’m trying to freeze a few meals for when the baby comes...’
‘That’s good.’
‘It’ll take more than a few frozen dinners to see us through, though.’
Freya saw the flash of tears in Mrs Roberts’s eyes and then watched as she buried her face in her hands and started to weep.
‘Mam!’ Jamie toddled over and pulled at her skirt. ‘Mam!’
‘Mummy’s just a little tired,’ Freya said as she gave Mrs Roberts some tissues.
When his inquisitive eyes fell on her stethoscope, Freya took it from her neck and played with it on him, to give Mrs Roberts time to cry by herself.
‘Do you want to have a play with it now?’
Delighted with his new toy, Jamie wandered off.
‘I’m sorry, Freya.’ Mrs Roberts sniffed into the tissue that Freya had pressed into her hand. ‘How on earth am I going to manage with another one? I don’t get a moment to myself as it is.’
‘Have you thought about asking your sister to come and stay with you for a wee while once the baby arrives?’ Freya knew that the two women were close.
‘I have,’ Mrs Roberts nodded, ‘but it’s a huge imposition.’
‘Did she say that?’
‘No,