15
Sister Higgins, the labour ward sister, gave Alex and Dan a brief summary.
‘We’ve five women in labour – unusual to have so many at once.
And there’s not even a full moon!’ She laughed.
‘I’ve been given a midwife from the clinic – though she’s newly qualified – and two of the district midwives are coming in shortly in case more women arrive.
In the meantime I have a woman to look after myself.
What I need from you two is to check in on all the midwives regularly in case they need help.
Mr Russell is in theatre all day today – he has his own gynae cases booked in.
Dr McMullen and Dr Marron are doing the clinic.
The second theatre is being held for any obstetric emergencies.
Mr Fenton has been checking in but says he’s quite busy.
He’s based here today but is on his rounds at the minute. ’
Aye, busy doing nothing, was Alex’s immediate thought. The man was probably reading the newspaper in the consultants’ sitting room.
‘Here’s the list, with summary notes.’ She handed Dan a clipboard. ‘Any questions?’
‘No. Thanks, Sister.’
‘We’re also going to need postnatal beds when these babies do arrive. How many free beds in A Ward, do you know?’
Alex thought for a moment. ‘At least three. And we have a couple of women who are due to go home tomorrow or the next day.’
‘Well, they might need to be discharged early,’ said Sister grimly. ‘Somebody needs to speak to Sister Campbell about it.’
‘There’ll be a side room later today as well,’ said Alex, thinking of poor Mrs Lennon.
‘Good! One of these women might get the royal treatment then!’ She turned to go. ‘Right. I’m away back to room 3. See yous later!’
Together, Alex and Dan perused the patient list. Without any shame whatsoever, Alex began by scanning the column containing the name of the midwife attending each woman.
There! Room 4, Midwife Canavan. He read the details.
Consultant – Fenton. Name – Mrs Duffy. Age 27 .
. . Lord! The woman had a terrible history. Four baby losses!
‘I’d be a bit worried about that lady,’ he said, frowning. ‘Three children at home, then four losses including a stillbirth.’
‘Aye.’ Dan read the details. ‘And this one too.’ He pointed to another name. ‘Blood pressure high, diabetes. No headache or swelling reported earlier, but I think I should check on her. Room 2.’
‘The others look straightforward. White-card cases; no major obstetric concerns.’
‘Fair enough. How about I take rooms 1 and 2, you take 4 and 5, and if Sister needs us for the lady in room 3, we’ll decide at the time?’
‘Perfect.’ I get to work with Maisie!
‘I’m hoping to meet Peggy at one in the canteen, remember,’ Dan said, a little sheepishly.
‘Right! I’ll bear that in mind, and cover for you if needed.’
‘Thanks, a chara.’ Dan lightly punched his arm.
‘What does that mean? I’ve heard it said a few times. A kara. ‘Irish, I presume.’
‘It just means friend.’
‘Oh.’ Friend. Yeah, they were friends. A good feeling.
A moment later he was knocking on the door of room 4.
* * *
Maisie heard the knock but ignored it, as Mrs Duffy was in the throes of a contraction and moaning softly.
Since the child’s heartbeat had been confirmed she had been talking less – a good sign, and one associated with women beginning to develop the birth trance necessary for labour to progress well.
The last thing the woman needed was a stranger in the room.
Once the contraction was done she crossed to the door, opening it a crack. Her heart skipped at seeing a familiar handsome face. Alex! ‘Dr Lowe!’
‘Well, Midwife Canavan. How’s it going?’
She made a face, knowing Mrs Duffy couldn’t see. ‘Slow and steady,’ she reported. ‘Baby’s heartbeat good.’
‘Is now a good time to introduce myself to Mrs Duffy?’
Maisie’s heart turned over at his consideration for the woman. Many doctors would have barged in by now. ‘Er – let me check.’
‘Bring him in surely, whoever he is,’ said Mrs Duffy, and Maisie grinned, opening the door wider.
‘This is Dr Lowe, she said. ‘Dr Lowe, this is Mrs Duffy.’
‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ said Alex, and Mrs Duffy guffawed.
‘Not so nice to meet you, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so!’
‘And why’s that?’ asked Alex, a twinkle in his eye.
‘State of me! Nine months pregnant, size of a cow, and red in the face from being in labour! Believe it or not, I used to be good-luckin’ at one time!’
‘Ah you still are, Mrs Duffy!’
She snorted. ‘And you’re nahin’ but an oul’ charmer, Dr Lowe.’ She glanced at Maisie. ‘I bet all the midwives are after this one, Maisie. You may grab him quick if he’s not spoken for!’
Aware of sudden heat in her face, Maisie managed to answer primly, ‘I’ve no intention of grabbing him – or any other man, Mrs Duffy. I’ve had my fill of handsome lads and I’m sticking to my own company!’
‘Ah, you’re right, love!’ Mrs Duffy laughed. ‘They need us far more than we need them, I always say. Sure my own man will be as lost as a rooster in a pigsty until I get home again!’
‘Too right!’ Laughing it off, Maisie’s pulse remained fairly tumultuous as she stood by while Alex checked Mrs Duffy’s blood pressure and asked her questions about how she was feeling.
Having opened the curtains a wee bit to allow him to do his checks and add a note to the woman’s file, she closed them again as Alex left, promising to check in on them again later.
While she was grateful to have a doctor keeping an eye on Mrs Duffy and her baby, Maisie was all too aware that she had been far too delighted that the doctor was Alex.
This is getting ridiculous. Dan Sheridan was objectively equally as good-looking as Alex Lowe, and yet her heart didn’t race when Dan looked at her. But then, Dan was spoken for.
So was it simply that Alex seemed to like her, while Dan was merely friendly?
Was she really so easily led that any fella with a handsome face that showed her a bit of attention could make her go weak at the knees?
If so, that was a flaw in her own character, and one that she shouldn’t be giving in to.
Alex’s visit – while part of the routine of a hospital maternity unit – was nevertheless disruptive, and had clearly knocked Mrs Duffy out of her flow.
This was why home births went better – or at least, one of the reasons.
Peggy was lucky to be starting properly on the district next week; it would likely be months before Maisie was offered the same privilege – but if she did well in labour ward today – and any other days she got the opportunity – it would certainly help.
Mrs Duffy was now pacing anxiously, having lost the calmness of just twenty minutes ago.
Still, Alex had listened in to the baby’s heartbeat, confirming as Maisie had, that all was well.
Now Maisie would use silence, occasional soothing words and gentle touch when appropriate to get Mrs Duffy back into the right frame of mind again.
That was her job – the job of a midwife. Supporting the women, no matter what.
* * *
Alex returned to the labour ward staffroom, exhilaration flowing through him.
There was something really special about officially sharing a case with Maisie.
Mrs Duffy – despite her sad history – had seemed unexpectedly calm and relaxed, which was probably at least partly Maisie’s doing.
The woman had tensed up when he was auscultating the baby’s heartbeat – hardly surprising, really.
But he had confidence in Maisie’s ability to calm her again.
Dan wasn’t there – presumably he was still in room 2 with the woman who had both diabetes and raised blood pressure.
Alex reached for the seemingly eternal pile of paperwork and began reviewing and signing forms, his mind drifting to other things.
Maisie was almost like a puzzle to be deciphered, and just now he had received another clue.
I’ve no intention of grabbing him – or any other man, she had said.
I’ve had my fill of handsome lads and I’m sticking to my own company!
While Alex, naturally, had no objection at all to being grabbed by Maisie, perhaps her response to Mrs Duffy had been nothing more than light-hearted deflection. Or maybe she genuinely had sworn off men? So the Anglican was no longer her boyfriend. Confirmed.
And if she had sworn off all men, it was likely because someone had hurt her. Someone handsome. The Anglican.
Had she also been indirectly implying that she thought he, Alex, was handsome? Perhaps. Or maybe he was doing too much thinking. Maybe none of it meant anything and he was well on the way to making an eejit of himself.
‘Well!’ It was Dan, pulling him out of his reverie. ‘How did you get on?’
Alex gave a summary on Mrs Duffy while Dan updated him on his own case.
It was so helpful to have someone else to bounce things off – particularly someone at the exact same career stage.
After checking on the women in rooms 1 and 5 they met again in the staffroom, idly chatting while doing paperwork.
‘Oh, here! I meant to say to you earlier,’ Alex kept his tone light. ‘That dance – the first fundraiser in the Orpheus – it’s this day week. Should we go, and try to persuade the girls to go?’
Dan sent him a knowing glance. ‘The girls? Peggy and Maisie?’
‘Aye. Just them.’ Not Priscilla.
‘Nice girl, Maisie Canavan. Isn’t she?’ There was a twinkle in his eye as he said it.
Alex narrowed his eyes in mock aggression. ‘Back off, a kara. You already have one!’
Dan laughed. ‘Nice use of Irish there, Alex – though you’d have been better saying mo chara there, rather than a chara.’
‘Let me guess. “My friend”?’
‘Exactly! Jaysus, we’ll make a gaeilgeoir of you yet!’
‘And that means . . .?’
‘Someone who speaks Irish. Like Henry Joy McCracken did. And Eddie Carson!’
‘That’s Lord Carson to you, son!’ Alex shot back with a fake patronising air.
‘Nah.’ Dan laughed. ‘We don’t hold with no lords where I come from. Every man on his own merit.’