One Day at a Time

Prologue

HOGMANAY (THE SCOTTISH TERM FOR THE LAST DAY OF THE YEAR)

The Maternity Ward at Glasgow Central Hospital

Not to mention there had already been plenty of drama on the ward tonight.

They’d had two deliveries in the last two hours and one of the new mums was miffed because she’d been determined to hang on until after midnight, while the other had asked her inebriated husband to leave the hospital because he broke into the celebration Scotch four hours before his baby was born.

Candy put her mug down on the staffroom table.

It was a small room off the main ward, with just a Formica table and six white fold-up chairs, a kettle, a fridge, a sink and a small, sad Christmas tree that had been dragged out of the ward store cupboard every year since the nineties.

It was now flashing in the corner, as if begging for the last remnants of festive attention. ‘Optimistic in what way?’

Sharon shrugged, determined to be a force of positivity. ‘It’s just the newness of it all. It’s like starting all over again. Welcoming in a new year, a new baby, a whole new chapter of life in so many ways.’

If ever there was a pal whose sceptical disposition was in direct contradiction of her sweet name, it was the one sitting across from Sharon, pursing her lips before saying, ‘Or maybe it’s just the hope that if they have the first baby in Scotland after midnight, they’ll get mass media coverage and a lorry full of Pampers if they land a brand deal. ’

‘Okay, well maybe that too,’ she agreed, chuckling. ‘But I’m rejecting your cynicism and sticking with the spiritual goodness of it all.’

Sharon checked her watch, then stretched as she let out an exaggerated yawn.

There were only a couple of hours left of the old year and if she were a betting woman she’d say that there wouldn’t be a new arrival on the ward until closer to sunrise.

That was fine with her, because her own back was aching with the weight of carrying a bump that was growing bigger by the day.

For ten years, Sharon Byrne had doled out love, care and reassurance to pregnant women, assuaged their fears and held their hands.

Now it was her turn, and she finally fully understood the emotional roller coaster that came with the childbirth journey, because she was expecting her first baby at thirty-nine years old.

In technical medical terms, this was classed as a geriatric pregnancy, which, as Candy had pointed out, was a jolly thought to keep a pregnant woman feeling great between nausea, piles and the thought of stretching her birth canal to the size of a torpedo shaft.

Although, she was trying to block out that mental picture for now.

Tonight was her last shift before she went on maternity leave, and her swollen ankles couldn’t wait to be propped up on the sofa for the next few weeks.

‘So are we betting on it?’ Candy asked.

Sharon’s thoughts had diverted her from the conversation, and she’d lost track of what they were saying. ‘On what?’

Candy reached over and stole a Wotsit from her packet. ‘On who’ll be first to give birth in the new year on the sunny wards of Glasgow Central.’

‘That would be deeply unethical and in terrible taste,’ Sharon shot back, before adding, ‘But I bet you the rest of my multipack of Wotsits and my entire coffee stash that it’ll be the lady in room two. She’s furthest along.’

‘You’ve already promised me your coffee stash when I swapped shifts with you last weekend,’ Candy countered, ‘but I’m easily swayed, so I’ll accept the snacks. My Mounjaro is wearing off and I’m famished.’

Sharon handed over her half-eaten packet. ‘Here’s enough to keep you going. I’m already carrying a distinct whiff of Eau De Cheese.’

‘You’ve gone all posh since you had that conservatory built in your house. You’re like a changed woman.’ Candy had been teasing her about that for months now, so, as always, Sharon just brushed right over it.

‘Okay, the wager is lunch at Carlo’s Café next week. Loser pays.’ Carlo’s Café was a five-minute walk from the hospital and their usual stop for coffee, cake or wine when required and not pregnant. ‘So who’s your bet then?’

Candy gave it the kind of deep contemplation normally reserved for a crucial point in a big business negotiation. Or maybe an international peace treaty.

‘I’m going with the mum in room four. Her husband has just arrived, and she’s been waiting for him.’

‘Ah, I’m glad he made it. I haven’t met her yet, but I’ll pop in and see her, and I reserve the right to change my answer.’

Before Candy could argue, the door opened and Maeve, one of the nursing assistants on the ward, barged in.

‘Sorry, lassies, but Susie sent me to let you know she needs you both back. We’ve got another admission, and it looks like it’s all about to get a bit fluffy out there.’

Candy was the first to jump up, and she took Sharon’s outstretched hand and gave her a heave to a standing position.

‘And there was me hoping for a quiet, non-eventful night,’ Sharon said, already on the way to the door.

She was barely paying attention when she opened it, and that was probably why she walked straight into a man who just happened to be walking down the corridor at that moment.

‘Oh, sorry,’ she blustered as her pen went flying and she scoured the floor for it. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

He was talking at the same time. ‘No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was… Sharon?’

For the first time, she looked up at his face and there wasn’t a word that could quite grasp the shock of seeing him. This didn’t make sense. Why was he here? How did he know?

As that was going through her mind, she watched his surprised stare go from her face to her stomach, and then his eyes widened in astonishment as the father of her unborn child, the man she hadn’t seen for seven months, realised that she was pregnant.

Oh no. No. Not like this. He shouldn’t find out this way. Too late. Now that he knew, she had to explain.

But she didn’t get the chance. Because she’d only taken a couple of steps when a massive pain gripped her stomach and she grabbed the door frame for support as she buckled over.

And in that moment, she knew for absolutely certain, that tonight was about to become even more eventful than any of them could have anticipated.