And distract me, she thought, but in fact he didn’t. He sat very quietly and said not a lot until they’d arrived, and then as they got out she noticed he was a little pale.
‘You don’t take any prisoners, do you?’ he said drily.
‘I said we were in a hurry,’ she said with a grin, and he managed a wan smile.
‘Hmm. I’m not used to being driven. I find it a bit unnerving.’
She laughed, grabbed her bag out of the car and headed round the side of the house. A volley of barking heralded their arrival, and as she opened the back door the big black dog launched itself at her.
‘Brogue, get down!’
The dog subsided, licking her hand, and with a frown she went into the kitchen and found Julie slumped over the table. She lifted her head and gazed at Jo.
‘Couldn’t make the stairs,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Think it’s coming—’
‘Good job you’ve got a decent-sized table in here, then, isn’t it, since the floor’s a bit doggy?’ Jo said with a grin. ‘Ed, give me a hand. Oh, Julie, this is Dr Ed Latimer, our new GP obstetrician.’
Julie peered up at him, and said weakly, ‘Hi.’ She dropped her head again. ‘Oh, here we go again…’
‘She’s having a contraction—come on, let’s clear the table and move her as soon as it’s over so I can have a look.’ Jo scooped papers and mugs off the table, and stacked cushions for Julie to lean against, then glanced at Ed over her shoulder. ‘There’s a big black box in the boot of my car. Could you get it?’
He went without argument, to her relief, and was back in seconds, by which time she’d shut Brogue in the utility room and was back with Julie.
‘Thanks,’ she murmured, lifting the lid off the box. Pulling out the delivery pack and a few inco pads, she spread them out on the top of the big old table and they lifted Julie onto it. Her dress was quickly hitched up, and as they dispensed with her underwear it was obvious the baby wasn’t waiting for anyone.
‘I’ll just wash my hands,’ Jo said, but there wasn’t time to find gloves, because the baby was coming, and coming now. ‘Just pant,’ Jo told Julie, and the baby shot out into her hands in a slippery rush just moments later.
‘Hello, little fellow,’ she said with a smile. Lifting him, she put him down on Julie’s abdomen and grinned at Ed. ‘Three thirty-seven. Remember that. Didn’t need us at all,’ she added over the baby’s indignant squall. Washing her hands again, she dried them on a clean towel from one of the kitchen drawers, put gloves on and checked for any problems.
It all looked very straightforward, and after the cord stopped pulsing she clamped and cut it. Wrapping the baby in another towel from the drawer, she handed him to Ed. ‘Hold this,’ she ordered.
‘This,’ he said softly. ‘Is that any way to speak to you, son?’ he murmured and, taking the corner of the towel, he gently wiped the baby’s face.
Jo dragged her eyes away from him and tried to concentrate on the patient and her needs. She was propped on the pile of hastily assembled cushions, and she looked thoroughly uncomfortable on the hard tabletop.
‘I’d like to move you to somewhere more comfy,’ she was saying, when the back door burst open and Tim erupted into the room, his eyes wild.
‘Ah, Julie, love, you could have waited for me!’ he said with a laugh, and hugged his wife.
‘It’s a boy,’ she told him, and he closed his eyes and hugged her again.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Think so,’ Jo told him. ‘We haven’t really had time to check—he’s only just been born a few minutes.’
‘You check Mum, I’ll check the baby,’ Ed said, and she was suddenly reminded that he was a fellow-professional and not just someone she’d dragged along for the ride. She wondered how badly she’d ordered him around, but couldn’t remember.
Too bad. The baby was the first priority, and it was her delivery anyway. ‘Do you want to wait for the placenta, or shall I give you an injection?’ she asked Julie, knowing full well what the answer would be.
‘I’ll wait—I can feel a contraction now, I think.’
Jo laid a hand on Julie’s soft abdomen and pressed down, and she could feel the uterus working. ‘Yes, you’re right. We’ll wait. Are you OK there?’
‘I’ll manage.’
It didn’t take long. She popped the afterbirth into one of the bowls and checked it quickly, filled the other with hot water to wash the mother down, examined Julie for any little nicks or tears and declared her to be fine.
‘Baby, too. He’s got good lungs,’ Ed said ruefully, pulling the earpieces of the stethoscope out of his ears so the bellowing didn’t damage his hearing permanently. ‘I’ll check his heart later when he’s quiet but, judging by his colour, I can’t imagine he’s got a problem.’
‘No. He’s a lusty little chap,’ Jo said, giving him her attention for the first time. She looked at the placenta more thoroughly, lifting up the membranes and checking for any abnormalities, then put it into a yellow clinical waste bag, sealed it and put it inside another one.
‘Want to weigh him?’ Ed asked.
‘Not yet. I want to clear up a little first and then get Julie upstairs. You feeling strong, Tim?’ she asked, bagging up the rest of the clinical waste and popping a pad between Julie’s legs.
He grinned and scooped his wife up in his arms, carrying her up to their bedroom with the others trailing behind. ‘Fancy having him in the kitchen,’ Tim said affectionately as he set her down. ‘You spend your life at that damn table—I might have known you’d have the baby on it!’
‘It’ll be something to tell the grandchildren when they come over for Sunday lunch,’ Julie said with a chuckle.
‘Hmm. Eating off the same table, I have no doubt.’ Jo laughed. ‘Right, we need to undress you and freshen you up, feed the baby, and then after your bath I think you’ll need a rest—I should think you’re exhausted after such a hard labour,’ she said with a smile.
‘Oh, yes—all of about an hour from the first twinge.’
‘You should have rung me on the mobile,’ Tim scolded.
‘I did—you left it switched off,’ Julie pointed out.
‘Now, now, children, don’t fight,’ Jo said. She sent Tim off to clear up the devastation in the kitchen and make everyone a cup of tea while she helped Julie out of her clothes and into a dressing-gown.
Once Julie was undressed she was able to feed the baby, and Jo felt the usual surge of satisfaction as she watched the little baby suckle from his mother. He was the third of their children that she’d delivered or monitored in pregnancy, and it was gratifying to have been involved in the arrival of the whole family.
She looked up at Ed, wondering what he was making of all of this, and surprised a look of sadness and longing on his face again. How strange. He was so good with children—had he lost one? Was that it?
He looked up and caught her eye. His expression became immediately neutral, as if he’d carefully schooled his face to remove the traces of emotion.
‘Teatime,’ Tim said cheerfully, pushing the door open with his foot and carrying in a tray.
Ed stood up. ‘Not for me, thanks. Things seem fine. I think I’ll go for a wander—have a look round outside. I’m still feeling a bit green after the white-knuckle ride—Jo doesn’t exactly hang about. I’ll be back in a while.’
His