Page 30 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

‘Thanks.’ Before she lost her nerve, Maisie tapped on the door. ‘Dr Lowe?’ She was slightly breathless, so deliberately she took a deep inhalation.

‘Come in!’ And there he was, looking fine and handsome in his suit and his white coat. He seemed to be writing up a patient’s file but when Maisie entered, he turned to look at her.

‘Maisie!’ Deliberately he set down his pen as the door swung closed behind her. ‘Is everything all right?’ His brow was furrowed, his expression laced with concern, and she felt herself flush. Faced with the reality of him, and conscious they were entirely alone and private, she was abruptly beset with memories from the day before. Had she really stood trembling like an eejit, and accepted comfort from him? What must he think of me? Mortified, she was momentarily lost for words.

‘Um – there’s a lady in clinic – um – she – I wondered if you could maybe . . .’

His eyes were now crinkling at the corners, she noticed. It really was unfair how one man was allowed to be so good-looking.

‘If I could maybe . . . ?’ he prompted, and suddenly, she realised how hopeless it was.

‘Never mind. It was a stupid idea. I’ll go.’ Stupid, Maisie. Why are you so stupid?

She turned, but he must have moved like lightning, for just as she was reaching for the door handle his hand closed over hers. She half turned, to find him so close that she could see the darker ring round his irises, the beautiful tones and shades and patterns in the grey. Her breath caught, her pulse racing.

‘Maisie.’ He turned his hand, so that he now was holding hers. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’ Gently he led her back towards the desk, bidding her sit in the chair he had recently vacated, then pulled up another chair to sit opposite her.

‘Right. Right.’ Deliberately, she broke his gaze. It was easier to think that way. ‘Mrs Teresa Lennon,’ she recited, ‘age twenty-four . . .’ She told him the whole story, sensing him stiffen when she got to the part where Fenton had made his recommendation in such black-and-white terms.

‘And so she’s downstairs, and scheduled for the D&C at nine, and it’s not right. It’s not right!’ she added fiercely.

He was looking at his watch. ‘Twenty past eight. I’ll see if Mr Russell is in yet.’

‘Thank you.’ She rose. ‘I need to get back before I’m missed.’

‘Maisie.’ Pausing, she looked at him, and the look held for longer than it should. ‘Thank you. For doing right by this woman.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not enough though, is it?’ The time was too short; they both knew it.

‘We can try.’

His words lingered in her inner ear as she returned to the clinic. Gliding directly past Sister’s office like a ghost, she managed to get safely back to the Lennons. They had both been crying, it was clear.

‘But I can’t leave you, and leave our three without a mother!’ Teresa was saying, her voice cracking. ‘And I don’t want to burn in hell either!’

‘I know, I know,’ Mr Lennon said. ‘Hush now, Teresa, it will be all right in the end.’

Will it, though? Maisie couldn’t believe it. Well, how could it be? How could such a thing ever be all right in the end?

9

‘I see, Dr Lowe. And you know this how?’

Alex had rushed to Mr Russell’s office – a large room with a window on the middle floor – and had just outlined the case.

Russell’s gaze was piercing, and Alex felt momentarily discomfited. Had he made a monumental error?

‘One of the midwives told me.’ No way was he going to name Maisie. ‘The woman is due to be brought round to theatre at half past. Procedure is at nine.’

Russell checked his pocket watch. ‘Professional autonomy is highly prized in the medical profession, Dr Lowe. To interfere in another man’s case, to question or undermine his decision . . . These are serious matters, as I am sure you realise.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Russell rose. ‘Let us see if we can manage indirectly. Dr Fenton is, I believe, normally in the consultants’ sitting room at this time.’ He made for the door. ‘Come with me.’

* * *

‘It’s time. Can you accompany Mrs Lennon to theatres, please, Midwife Canavan?’ Sister’s tone was mild, her expression neutral. Maisie had no idea if she had any concerns about Mrs Lennon’s case.