Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
I recognised that voice. All of my self-pity vanished in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming concern for the woman behind the door. “Christine, is that you?”
“… Who’s there?”
“Milly Cross. Can you open the door? I have some medical training, and I’m going to help you.”
A moment of hesitation passed before the lock clicked from occupied to vacant, and the door swung open.
The put-together woman I last saw had been transformed. Her face was flushed, hair wild, eyes shining. She clutched her stomach and said, voice wavering, “I’m only thirty weeks pregnant.”
A surge of adrenaline jolted through me, but I tried to stay calm. “Okay, Christine, I need you to tell me what symptoms you’re experiencing.”
Six years had passed since I left medical school, but from the symptoms she described between visible spasms of pain, I knew straight away that I had to get her to hospital—and fast.
“Christine, I’m going to take you to the hospital. We just need a driver. Otherwise, I’ll call an ambulance.”
“Winston,” she rasped.
“Who’s Winston? What about Neil? Should I go get him?”
“Yes, get Neil.”
“First, let’s get you out of here. Lean on me.” I offered her my shoulder.
Bearing some of her weight, I steered her out of the stall, then from the bathroom. I didn’t want to leave her alone while I fetched Neil, so I planned to drop her with James, the receptionist.
A hitch in my strategy emerged when we reached the empty reception desk. No one else was around, either.
“I’m going to leave you here for a second while I run and get Neil. I’ll be right back. Promise.”
She nodded, leaning up against the desk and cradling her belly.
No time to lose, I raced down the corridor and through Christine’s office where the desks at each end of the room were empty and the door through to Neil’s office was closed.
Is he here?
I rapped on the door loud enough to signal that this was a matter of urgency. No response. I couldn’t stand around waiting, so I flung the door open and charged inside.
There he was, standing in the centre of the room, framed by the two leather couches, half of him bathed in sunlight, the other half in shadow. He had his phone pressed to his ear. His suit jacket had been discarded over the back of the chair behind his desk. Those dark, unnerving eyes met mine, flashing with something unrecognisable. His jaw tightened like a bowstring about to shoot an arrow.
“Neil!”
He analysed me for a second, then spoke to the person on the end of the phone. “I’m going to need to call you back.” He lowered the phone from his ear and gave me his full attention. “What do you want?”
“Christine needs to go to the hospital. Right now.”
His eyes widened. “Where is she?”
Did I detect a hint of panic in that smooth voice of his?
“This floor. Reception.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he jumped into action, striding to the exit behind me. “Did you call an ambulance?”
“No. I think it will take too long to wait for one. Can you drive us?”
“I’ll call Winston.”
That name again.
He tapped on his phone and lifted it to his ear as we walked briskly, side by side, down the corridor. “Bring the car around the front,” he said. “It’s an emergency.”
At reception, a very anxious-looking James had returned and was attending to Christine. I could imagine what he was thinking: Please don’t have the baby here. He slumped with obvious relief when he saw us approaching.
Neil lent his arm to Christine. “We’re going to get you to the hospital,” he said calmly. “You’re going to be okay, and so will the baby.”
Christine gave a weak nod.
I dashed ahead to push the down button on the control panel between the lifts. The lift came quickly, and I held the button down to keep the door open as Neil guided Christine inside.
The whole time my brain ticked over, planning what to do next. I decided the most logical next step was to call the hospital’s maternity unit to report Christine’s symptoms and let them know we’re on our way.
While the lift descended to the ground floor, I Googled the phone number and made the call. An automated message greeted me and told me to hold the line. Gentle music played.
“I’m calling the maternity unit,” I explained to Neil and Christine.
Neil acknowledged this with a sharp nod.
I continued to hold the line as the lift door clunked open onto the ground floor. Neil and I flanked Christine and brought her to the main entrance, where a black Audi sedan awaited us outside, its engine running.
I didn’t ask if I could come. In my mind, there was no question whether or not I should. If something happened on the journey to the hospital, I might be able to provide at least some help. Plus, I was still waiting for someone to pick up the phone.
Neil bundled Christine into one side of the back seat, and I opened the door to the other side, about to get in next to her.
“The front,” Neil said to me in a tone of voice I didn’t dare argue with.
Whatever. I could still be of use from the front.
Clutching my phone to my ear, I got into the front passenger seat. The driver, whom I assumed was Winston, was a bald man with leathery brown skin, maybe around sixty years old. He wore black sunglasses and a suave navy suit.
Neil took the seat next to Christine. “Winston,” he said, “to the hospital. As fast as you can.”
“Got it,” Winston said in a gruff yet proper accent. He pulled the car out from the curb.
Meanwhile, the hold music stopped, and someone picked up my call. “Hello, Steph speaking. How can I help you?”
“Hi. I’m with a woman called Christine Liu. She’s thirty weeks pregnant and experiencing strong contractions, pressure on her back and lower abdomen, and heavy discharge. We’re on our way to the hospital now.”
“Understood.”
Steph asked for some information to identify Christine in their system. I lowered my phone and turned to the back seat. Neil was letting Christine squeeze his hand for support. The gesture surprised me. I didn’t think him capable of providing comfort to another person, even if she was a close colleague.
“I need to give the maternity unit her details,” I explained. “An address or date of birth or something.”
“December first, nineteen-eighty,” Neil said without faltering.
I parroted the date to Steph, and she gave me the information needed for our arrival.
“They’ll be expecting us at the labour-and-birthing unit on the ninth floor,” I reported after ending the call. “We can get to the drop-off zone via the Park Road entrance.”
“Roger that,” Winston said, as he wove in and out of traffic.
I peeked at the back seat again. Neil was still holding Christine’s hand. Her face was pallid and moist with sweat. It looked like she was about to pass out. Knowing full well just how risky the situation was, considering her age and the length of her pregnancy, I prayed she and the baby would be okay.
Now it was Neil’s turn to make a call. He took out his phone and spoke to whom I assumed was Christine’s partner. He asked them to come to the birthing unit at the hospital, and to bring everything that Christine would require.
A few minutes later, the barrier arm lifted for us at the entrance gate. The hospital was a campus of several white, multi-story buildings surrounded by concrete roads, carparks, and grassy areas dotted with trees.
Winston stopped the car outside the automatic sliding door into the building, then hopped out and assisted Neil with moving Christine from the back seat. “You’re going to be just fine, my dear,” Winston said to Christine, a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be thinking of you.”
Christine offered him a weary smile, then Neil and I escorted her inside while Winston got back in the car and drove off to find a proper park.
A strong antiseptic smell invaded my nostrils upon entry. Everything was a bright, cold white. Our shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor as we made our way to the lifts, then followed the signage to the labour-and-birthing unit. Neil looked after Christine while I reported our arrival at the desk.
“A doctor will see her shortly,” the receptionist said. “If her condition deteriorates, let me know straight away, and I’ll do what I can to have her seen sooner.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
She passed me a clipboard of paperwork and a blue ballpoint pen. “Could you please fill out as much of this as possible?”
“Uh, sure.”
Knowing as little as I did about Christine, I wouldn’t be able to complete the form. I didn’t think Christine would be up to it either, but Neil might.
I presented the clipboard to him. “She gave me this.”
He took it from me without a word, ran his eyes over the attached form, then began to fill it out. Meanwhile, Christine writhed in the chair between us.
“Not much longer,” I said. “Someone’s going to come and sort you out. Everything will be okay. Deep breaths.”
I tried to sound soothing, but inside, I was frazzled.
How much longer are we gonna have to wait?
Finally, a blonde-haired woman wearing a blue uniform with a white lab coat over the top approached us. “Christine Liu?” she asked.
“Yes,” Neil and I said at the same time.
“I’ll take that.” She swiped the clipboard from Neil. “Right this way, please.”
She guided us down a corridor with several doors on each side and a window at the end, sunlight streaming through. We stopped outside a room.
“How are you holding up?” she asked Christine.
“The pain is easing, but maybe I’m just numb.”
“I’ll check you out right away.” She looked at Neil. “Are you her partner?”
“No. We work together. Her husband is on his way, though.”
She turned to me. “And what relation are you?”
“I also work with her.”
“In that case, both of you, please take a seat in the waiting area if you wish to stay.” She gestured to an adjoining corridor before returning her attention to Christine. “Come on through.” She ushered her into the room and closed the door behind them.
I followed Neil to the waiting area, not knowing what else to do. A few others occupied the space, either playing on their phones, flipping through old magazines, or staring ahead at the plain, white wall. Even with plenty of empty chairs, Neil stood. Though he didn’t look it, I assumed he was too anxious to sit down. So was I. We stood, side by side, in awkward silence, with what felt like an electric field crackling between us.
Only a couple of hours had passed since he had fired me. Now, I had possibly helped save his secretary’s baby’s life. That had to count for something, right? Didn’t he have anything to say on the matter? Apparently not, since he seemed to ignore my very existence, his arms folded across his chest and a grim look on his face.
Why won’t he say something? Anything?
I couldn’t take it any longer. “Would you like me to get you a drink?” I asked, eyeing the tea and water station in the corner of the room.
“No, thank you.”
“I might make myself a tea.” I took one step away.
“You can go now.”
I stopped. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not needed. You can go.”
I tensed. How could he dismiss me so easily after everything I had done and without so much as a word of thanks? “I guess I’ll go then,” I retorted in an even grumpier tone than I intended.
I started towards the exit without looking back at him, but something stopped me. A hand clamped on my shoulder. His hand.
“Amelia.”
“What?” I twirled around to meet him eye to eye.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Thank you.”
Finally.
“For your help today,” he continued.
I shrugged him off, including his grip. “Anyone would have done the same.”
“You showed initiative.”
I felt a flutter of surprise at how sincere he sounded. He had dropped his guard. I had to say something while I had this slither of opportunity. I lifted my chin, and with every ounce of confidence I could muster, I asked the question which had worked its way to the tip of my tongue. “Can I please have my job back?”
My question hung in the air between us.
Please say yes. I need my job. I need the money. I can’t go back to the way things were before.
Neil did that thing again—that unsettling gaze which felt like he was analysing me, making silent calculations.
Then he smirked.
Suddenly, I didn’t like my chances.