Karin Baine – Midwife Under The Mistletoe (страница 2)

‘That’s a shame. I was hoping for a buddy to go to mother and baby club with at the church hall.’

‘Sorry to disappoint. Maybe when you’re planning baby number three we can co-ordinate our schedules.’

Iona took the teasing with a pinch of salt because a child of her own was never going to happen. She loved the innocence of a newborn and the pure joy they brought to families and had her personal experiences been different she would’ve loved to have been a mother herself.

Unfortunately, having a baby meant tying yourself to the father for the rest of your life, with no escape, and she wouldn’t trust another man enough to make that sort of commitment again. She’d seen her parents caught in that trap, persevering with a long-dead marriage for the sake of their child, until they’d ended up resenting each other. In her effort to escape the toxic atmosphere she’d attached herself much too young to the dashing Andy, marrying him straight out of school. Only to find herself in an abusive relationship that she knew she would never have left if children had been involved too. It had taken her long enough just to get herself out of it.

No, Iona was happy to remain on the spectator side of pregnancy as a midwife. She was keen to help and support mothers until their babies had been safely delivered and monitor them for as long as they needed it, but her obligation didn’t go beyond a medical capacity. At the end of the day the babies went home with their mothers and she wasn’t beholden to anyone but herself and her job. She hadn’t gone back to school and spent years retraining as a midwife to throw it all away for another man.

Della laughed, clutching her beachball belly. There was definitely a glow in the women who came to the clinic to see Iona and whilst she might experience a pang of regret she’d never get to go through the joys of pregnancy herself, she’d accepted it. Conventional motherhood dictated a lifestyle she wasn’t prepared to give up her newfound freedom for.

She dipped the test paper into her patient’s urine sample and checked it against the colour chart for analysis. ‘Hmm, there’s a slight trace of protein. Excess protein can be a sign of a urinary tract infection so we’ll have to keep an eye on that in future appointments and if you experience any other symptoms, let me know straight away. Other than that, I’d say pregnancy is agreeing with you.’

Protein in the urine could also be an indicator of kidney damage or other disorders, including pre-eclampsia, but since Della’s blood pressure was normal and this was the first sign of a problem, Iona didn’t deem it necessary to worry her. If repeat tests showed similar readings she would send a sample to the lab for testing.

She tossed the used stick in the bin and gave her hands another wash. After Dr Irvine’s retirement she’d been temporarily upgraded to using this room to treat her patients. Although she was glad of the extra space, she had been sorry to see him go. The senior GP partner—whom she suspected had been practising medicine when Highlanders had still roamed these hills—had made the decision to take her on here at the clinic permanently. It was a position for which she’d be grateful for ever when it had provided her with the financial independence she’d long dreamed about.

Jim, as he’d insisted she call him, had been a true gent with an old-school approach to treating his patients. He’d known everyone in Culcranna by name and had always had time for those who’d needed him. As a result, he’d been well loved and respected. Only time would tell about his replacement, Dr McColl, who’d taken over as senior partner now Jim was content to spend his retirement on the golf course.

Although Fraser McColl was closer to her age than his predecessor, there was a stern quality in his manner that put her on edge and had caused a few run-ins between them. The latest had been his decision to cancel the staff Christmas party usually held on the premises out of hours. He’d called it unprofessional, made noises about it not being covered by insurance and she’d fought him on the issue because she’d been so looking forward to experiencing the tradition she’d heard so much about. Her colleagues had made the annual shindig sound so much fun she’d imagined it would be the perfect way to mark her first Christmas in the village.

Fraser had refused to back down, probably because he’d never understand how much her new job and new home meant to her. By all accounts he came from a family of means, with land and a title to boot, so a tiny flat and a steady income were probably inconsequential to him when they were everything to Iona.

Despite her rallying cry to the rest of the staff to protest, Fraser had imposed so many restrictions on the celebrations they’d been forced into a staid dinner at the nearest restaurant instead. Iona thought his stance on the matter was more about him letting the power go to his head than any insurance issues and had told him so in a fit of pique.

Since then they’d had a few minor rows, more to do with their clash of personalities than to any professional discourse. Iona didn’t appreciate anyone imposing unjustified restrictions on her after enduring a lifetime of that with her ex, and apparently Fraser didn’t gel well with people who didn’t fall into line. Which was tough luck for him because she was no longer prepared to tailor who she was to suit the needs of others.

There was no doubting Fraser’s skills or popularity as one of the practice doctors but his tendency to take over certain situations wasn’t a character trait she was keen on these days. With his dark, wavy hair and piercing green eyes he certainly cut a dashing figure in the sleepy village that even Iona wasn’t immune to. Whilst he had some of the local ladies hot under their cardigans, he reminded her of the men in her past who’d tried to stunt her personal growth. There was too much apparent control freakery about him for her to drop her defences, or any item of clothing, and she hated herself for finding him remotely attractive.

Perhaps if he kept his mouth shut she could enjoy the view at least, without having her hackles raised along with her pulse.

‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw me in the wee hours of the morning, running to the loo every five minutes, or when my insides are on fire with heartburn.’ Della shuffled her bottom to the edge of the chair before attempting to get to her feet, trying to balance the extra weight she was carrying around her middle.

Iona gave her a hand rather than watch her struggle like a turtle flipped onto its back, trying to right itself.

‘Well, you haven’t long to go now. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks if you don’t go into labour before then.’ They’d discussed Della having to be induced if she went too far past her predicted due date but as this was her second pregnancy with no previous complications, Iona wasn’t expecting she would require medical intervention.

‘Thanks. I can’t wait to have this little bundle in my arms.’ That tender belly-rub every mother-to-be performed in here made Iona think about her own mum and the excitement she must’ve felt before her impending birth. A woman didn’t carry and protect her baby for nine months expecting they’d both end up trapped in a life neither of them wanted.

She swallowed the rising sob in her chest. They were both free from those soul-destroying relationships now. It was just a tragedy it had come at the price of her mother’s death.

‘Your daughter will be here soon enough.’ Iona handed Della’s antenatal notes back to her with a smile. This was supposed to be a happy time for both of them. She had her own baby to get back to—her shiny new flat—and since they were three-quarters of the way through December she’d even treated herself to some new Christmas decorations. Some might say she’d gone overboard but she had enough to brighten up this dreary place too and really mark her first Christmas in the village.

* * *

‘I need these bloods sent off to the lab, there’s a pile of hospital referrals that need to be chased up, and this is Mrs Robertson’s prescription. Her husband’s going to call in before closing. I’ve informed him we usually require forty-eight hours for repeat prescriptions and we can’t keep on doing this.’

‘But she is eighty-three and we have to make allowances,’ Sheila, Fraser’s secretary, reminded him as she took the stack of paperwork from him with a nod and set it on her desk.

‘It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.’ He had enough to do without these last-minute requests to deal with too.

Taking on the role of senior partner brought with it a lot of extra form filling and bureaucracy but it was a position he revelled in. It gave him an extra say in how the practice was run and that would make him infinitely happier in his work. Structure and boundaries gave him a sense of security, an assurance he was doing things right. It was when he strayed from the rules that things fell apart. Okay, so he was no longer that over-active little boy whose parents had sent him to boarding school so he wouldn’t disturb his sick mother, but he’d learned his lesson since then. If he played by the rules there was a place for him and things would work out fine. Now he simply had to get everyone else to fall in line with him.