She turned to face him at the changing room door, her blue eyes meeting his. ‘Thank you,’ she said in a croaky voice, before lowering her head again.
‘No, thank you,’ he said, putting his fingers under her chin and tilting her head towards his. ‘You just knew. And you acted. Thank goodness. Jill could have been in the bathroom for much longer. She could have bled out completely. You acting on instinct made all the difference.’
He pressed his forehead down against hers. ‘Have faith, Esther. We got her in time.’
As they stood together her hands reached over and squeezed his. It was unexpected. Every move had been his. But this felt just right.
After a moment he reluctantly stepped back. ‘Meet you in ten,’ he said.
‘Meet you in ten,’ she repeated as she backed in through the changing room door.
* * *
Everything felt like her fault. Her head had been in the clouds, full of daises and unicorns, when her mind should have been firmly on the job.
Jill’s postnatal checks had been routinely carried out every afternoon since Billy’s admission, and she hadn’t complained of pain or discomfort that morning, so Esther had no reason to change the routine. Her bleeding had been within the normal range, and she’d displayed no obvious temperature. Her notes all said that her uterus was contracting as expected. But none of these things mattered to Esther. What mattered was that Jill had taken unwell while she’d been on shift. She wasn’t quite sure what it was that had triggered her bad feeling.
Had Jill pulled a face just as she’d closed the bathroom door? It had to have been something. Something that told her to go and check. And thank goodness that instinct had been there.
Stories of nurse, midwife and health visitor instinct were often described as old wives’ tales—similar to a mother’s instinct. But Esther didn’t believe that for a second. She’d witnessed too many incidents. Too many times there had been no explanation for a health care professional, or a mother, to check in on a patient or child only for them to discover something amiss, for there not to be some kind of explanation for it. One day she’d love to do a scientific study on it. But today was not that day.
She scrubbed her skin in the staff showers, watching the water turn from pale pink to clear. She rarely used these, preferring to shower at home. The hospital towels were always rough and slightly scratchy, so she dried quickly and redressed in yet another set of scrubs.
Harry had been so good to her. So nice. So supportive. It didn’t help that everyone had already been looking at them. It didn’t matter what the truth was; it was clear that others were assuming that more had happened between Esther and Harry than was true. She wasn’t quite sure whether to feel happy or sad about that.
Taking things fast in a relationship had never been Esther’s style.
She wasn’t even sure that Harry wanted any kind of relationship. She couldn’t even sort out her own feelings about it. They were from such opposite ends of the social spectrum. So much about him made her secretly a little mad. Money made life easy for people. And the ease of money just seemed to emanate from him. The voice, his stance, his clothes, even his attitude.
Esther was proud of herself, and her upbringing. Did she really want to associate with someone who, through no fault of his own, could make her feel less of a person? She didn’t need that. She didn’t want that.
But as she opened the door to the changing room she found Harry leaning on the wall opposite, answering a text on his phone. His white coat was back in place, along with new shoes and clean scrubs. Her heart gave a strange little flip. Making its feeling clear.
‘She’s in Theatre Five,’ Harry said quickly. ‘Come on.’
They waited nearly an hour before Jill’s obstetrician came out, her face serious. She stuck out her hand straight away. ‘Thank you, guys. My girl is only here because you both acted so quickly.’
Esther made a strange little sound at the back of her throat she was so relieved. She knew Dr Gillespie, the obstetrician, well but hadn’t been able to read her face at all as she’d walked towards them.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
Dr Gillespie pulled her theatre hat from her head. ‘Part of her placenta was retained. I’ve no idea why she hadn’t reported symptoms. Once we got her into Theatre I thought I was going to have to do a hysterectomy.’
‘Did you?’ asked Esther.
Dr Gillespie shook her head. ‘No, thank goodness. But I suspect she’ll need careful observation in any future pregnancies.’
Even though the news was still serious, Esther couldn’t help but smile. Jill was alive. She was safe. Billy still had a mum.
Dr Gillespie gave them both another nod, then headed back down the theatre corridor.
‘I need to go and tell the staff in NICU,’ said Esther.
Harry nodded. ‘Of course. Go ahead.’
A smile broke across her face. She stood up on tiptoes and kissed Harry on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’ She smiled. There was a little cough from someone who walked past.
Harry smiled too. ‘Let’s give them something to talk about,’ he said as he pulled her towards him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ESTHER STARED AT the smooth envelope pushed through her door. She’d been talking to her mum on the phone and making some toast when she’d noticed the unusual post.
Even running her fingers over it made a little shiver run down her spine. This was expensive stationery.
It must be a mistake, but as she turned it over it was definitely her name that was on the front.
But there was no address. Just her name, in fine script. Ms Esther McDonald.
She couldn’t help but be intrigued. She slid the envelope open. Inside was a stiff card invitation. She pulled it out and stared at it.
Lord and Lady Brackenridge invite the Duke of Montrose and guest to the Avistock Charity Ball at Eglinton Hall.
There was a cute dinosaur sticky note stuck to the invitation in writing she recognised from the NICU as Harry’s. Will you come with me? They hold this event for a kids’ charity every year and
I don’t want to let them down by being a no-show. Harry x.
Esther staggered back onto the sofa, laughter bursting out of her. A ball? Her? Was Harry crazy?
She turned the invite over in her hands. He’d obviously driven to her house and posted it through the door last night. Why hadn’t he knocked? Why hadn’t he mentioned it at the hospital?
She wasn’t quite sure where they were. Harry would be moving on soon. It seemed like the whole hospital were now assuming they were dating and sleeping together. Neither of which were true. She’d never dated anyone she’d worked with before. This was all new territory for her and she wasn’t quite sure how to navigate it.
She ran her fingers over the thick card. A ball. Since when did a girl from one of the worst areas of deprivation in Scotland get invited to attend a ball with a duke?
The smile across her face felt infectious. She didn’t care how ridiculous it was. She didn’t actually care if it just brought home to her how different she and Harry were. For one day it might feel nice to live the life of someone else. To walk in a different set of shoes. Yes, she could worry about a dress, because she knew straight away that there was nothing suitable in her wardrobe, and she certainly couldn’t spare the funds to buy something appropriate. But that’s what friends were for. Before she even gave herself time to think about it she shot off a text to Carly and Chloe.
OK, girls, I’ve been invited to a ball. You’ve seen my wardrobe. The Princess Leia costume and gold hot pants are not going to cut it. Anyone got something I can wear?
Instantly she could see little dots appear on her phone.
Chloe sent a row of laughing emojis followed by a line of question marks.
Carly’s reply made her heart jump. I’ve got just the thing. Dark navy ball gown with a little bit of sparkle. Will leave it in NICU for you later today.