LITMIR.BIZ

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more and make it worse just for the sake of your fool pride, wouldn’t it?’ He winked. ‘I’ll send in your mother in a minute.’

      He found Miss Wright—not Judith, he reminded himself—where he’d left her, staring out of the window at the front garden. She swung round as he came in, and he felt the now-familiar thunderbolt slam him in the midsection.

      At last! She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever see her son again. She found a smile. ‘Hi. How is he?’

      ‘Stiff, tender—he’s got a partial subluxation of the lumbosacral joint, caused by his fall, and the spasm of his psoas muscles isn’t helping him stand properly.’

      ‘They give him trouble,’ she said with a sigh. ‘It’s postural, and because of his spasticity.’

      ‘Yes. Anyway, he should be a bit more comfortable now. I’ve told him to rest over the weekend and he needs some frozen peas on it three times a day for a few minutes. Put them in a plastic bag and tie them up, and wrap them in a teatowel so he doesn’t get freezer burns. Just refreeze them after each session.’

      She smiled again. ‘We have a bag of peas on the go most of the time,’ she told him softly. ‘Injuries are no stranger to him. He often turns his ankles.’

      ‘He would. It’s unfortunate—’

      A noise in the distance caught their attention and he lifted his head. ‘Was that Edward? Did you hear him call?’

      Judith shook her head. ‘No—is it someone at the back? I thought I heard someone a moment ago.’

      ‘Christine. Let me just check she’s all right. Would you like to go and make sure your son’s managing to dress himself, and then we’ll make you an appointement for next week?’

      He excused himself and went down the corridor. She was just crossing the hall when he came back, looking distinctly harrassed.

      ‘Problems?’ she said instantly, searching his face for clues.

      He rammed his hands through his hair. ‘You might say that. Miss Wright, have you ever delivered a baby before?’

      Judith froze for a moment. A baby? Oh, Lord, no, don’t let her have to get involved with a delivery. Not after the disaster of Edward’s birth…

      ‘Well? Have you?’

      ‘Only Woody,’ she told him automatically.

      His brow creased in puzzlement, but he moved on. ‘I’ll call an ambulance, but if you could go through there and talk to her? I think things are moving really very fast and she’s a bit scared.’

      She wasn’t alone, Judith thought. She forced herself to walk down the corridor on legs like jelly. Please, God, don’t let this be happening to me, she thought. Let him be wrong.

      He wasn’t. She found the woman lying on a comfy sofa, propped against one arm with her feet braced against the other—her face contorted with the effort of expulsion.

      Judith didn’t even have time to wash her hands, never mind make any kind of preparation for a sterile environment. She squeezed Christine’s hand briefly, hitched up her dress and pulled down the tights and pants that the woman had tried—and failed—to remove. As Hugh came back into the room she was perched on the side of the sofa, the baby’s head cradled in her hands, with no time to worry about her part in all this.

      ‘Here,’ Hugh murmured and, hitching Christine up a fraction, he slid a thick, soft towel under her, put his arm round her shoulders and let her hang onto his hand as the next contraction seized her in its grip.

      ‘Aagh…’ she groaned, tucking her chin down and straining.

      Judith smiled at her. ‘You’re doing fine, Christine. Nice and gently. Just take it steady. Well done.’ Heavens, was that her? She was talking on autopilot, functioning on two entirely different levels. God forbid that Christine should see the other level—she’d have hysterics!

      Judith looked down at her hands. The baby’s head lay there, streaked and smeared, the mass of dark hair pressed damply against the tiny skull. As Christine pushed the baby seemed to squirm and turn and twist in Judith’s hands. Suddenly not only a head but a body lay there in her hands, tiny, dark red and utterly furious.

      The blood-curdling yell was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard—second only to the siren of the ambulance which arrived at the same time, relieving her of the responsibility for the baby’s welfare and any further part in its delivery.

      ‘Thank God,’ Hugh muttered beside her and, releasing Christine, he went to let them in. Judith lifted the baby up and laid him across Christine’s now-soft abdomen. ‘It’s a boy,’ she said, her voice choked with tears, and as the ambulancemen came in she went over to the sink, washing her hands as if she could take away the memory of the last wet, squalling newborn she had held.

      His cry had been the same. Her joy in a new life had been the same. It was only later that she’d discovered how different he was to be…

      Hugh appeared behind her, his hands cupping her shoulders with a gentle squeeze of support and thanks and all the other tumbling emotions childbirth brought kicking and screaming to the surface. ‘All right?’

      ‘Yes.’ Surprisingly, her voice was steady. Now there’s a miracle if you like, she thought. ‘It’s a boy,’ she said unnecessarily.

      ‘I know. Thanks for your help.’

      She looked up at him, her eyes still misting with tears. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, although it wasn’t. Not for her—and not for Woody.

      Hugh looked searchingly at her for a moment, then his hand came up and brushed her cheek. She was surprised to feel a tremor in his fingers. ‘Do you want to go and make sure Woody’s all right?’ he suggested, as if he could read her mind. ‘He may be a bit concerned.’

      She nodded, smiled absently at the busy ambulancemen and fled down the corridor. She arrived in the hall to find her son there with another woman behind him. She smiled at them both, a little stronger now she was away from the scene in the kitchen.

      ‘No Christine?’ the woman said.

      ‘No—she’s just had her baby—that’s why the ambulance is here.’

      ‘Here? She’s had it here? Oh, how wonderful!’ the woman exclaimed, obviously delighted. ‘Everything all right?’

      Judith forced a smile. ‘Seems to be.’ Funny, she couldn’t share the woman’s enthusiasm.

      ‘Oh, do give her my best wishes. I’m Mrs Jennings, by the way. I’ll go through and wait, shall I? Oh, how exciting!’

      ‘Fine. Thank you.’ She turned to Woody. ‘OK, love?’

      He nodded. ‘Yeah—much better. I take it the receptionist had her baby just this minute?’ he murmured.

      She nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. A boy. He looked so much like you—’

      She broke off, unable to continue along that line of thought, but as usual Woody didn’t miss a trick.

      ‘Mum, it wasn’t your fault,’ he began, and then Hugh arrived.

      ‘Sorry about that,’ he said with a rather bemused smile. ‘Babies have a way of arriving when it suits them. Um—let’s have a look and see if we can make you an appointment for Monday, Edward—oh, excuse me—’ He picked up the ringing phone. ‘Good afternoon. Hugh Barber speaking. Can I help you?’

      It took three tries before he managed to look at the appointment book without interruptions, by which time he was looked fairly ragged and Judith was wondering if they would ever get away.

      ‘This is ridiculous,’ he muttered when the phone disturbed them yet again. ‘Let’s ignore it.’

      Judith reached out and covered his hand, stilling him for a second.

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