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‘When will we get to see her?’ Rita demanded as Gloria came in.
‘It’s just Mum allowed in for now,’ Gloria said, seeing Celeste’s strained face. ‘They’re ready for you, Celeste.’
It was a relief to be wheeled out of the room and away from them.
‘You can actually have one of them come in with you,’ Gloria said once they were out of earshot. ‘If you want—’
‘No,’ Celeste interrupted. ‘I’d rather see her on my own first.’
They had to sit in a little annexe for a few moments until they were ready for them.
‘You poor thing.’ Gloria gave her a kind smile, as they sat there. ‘I bet this is so not how you planned it.’
‘None of it’s how I planned it,’ Celeste admitted.
‘You are allowed to cry, you know.’ Gloria put her arm around Celeste’s shoulders and felt her stiffen. ‘It’s been such a difficult day...’ Celeste wriggled away because if she started crying she wouldn’t stop.
And then it was time... She was wheeled in to wash her hands, and then she was wheeled past the incubators and finally she got to see her daughter.
Lying like a little washed-up frog with all drips and tubes and that little pink hat on... Even then she couldn’t cry, couldn’t give in, because she felt she had to be responsible, so she listened instead as the special care nurse explained all the drips and tubes and that her daughter was comfortable...
‘Can I hold her?’ Celeste asked, when they didn’t offer.
‘Not today. We’re keeping her very quiet for now, but probably tomorrow...’
So she got to hold her fingers instead and stared at her teeny pink nails and waited for this whoosh of love to come. It was there a little bit, only it wasn’t exactly whooshing as she’d expected—because there was this huge plug of guilt lodged in its way.
‘Have you got a name for her?’
‘Not yet,’ Celeste said. ‘I wanted to see what she looked like.’ She gazed at her daughter and tried to think of a name that might suit her, but her brain was too fuddled for such a big decision. ‘I don’t know.’
‘There’s plenty of time,’ Gloria said. ‘We should get you back—you’re not well either, remember.’
She wasn’t.
The obstetrician came in and explained that her blood tests had come back and the results weren’t great. ‘They should all settle over the next few days now that you’ve delivered, but we will need to keep an eye on you. You’ve got pre-eclampsia, Celeste.’
‘Had.’ Celeste frowned. ‘Doesn’t it go away once the baby is here?’
‘Not straight away,’ he explained. ‘You’re still quite sick. You were being observed for it as your blood pressure was raised at your last antenatal, but...well, you had a lot of other stresses that could have accounted for that. It’s good that you’ve delivered. It could have been dangerous for you both had the pregnancy continued.’
It was a long, lonely evening—friends came and visited, but it was as if they were speaking a foreign language. Oh, they cooed and oohed at the photos, but when eight o’clock came and they headed out for Saturday night, Celeste just lay there with her eyes closed, not because she was tired but because she was scared she’d cry. She ignored the footsteps coming into the room, they could take her blood pressure without talking, and then she heard her keys being placed on the locker and screwed them closed more tightly.
Ben could see a tear slipping out of the side of one eye, and could only hazard a guess as to how hard this day had been for her.
He knew he should just put down the bag and walk out quietly. After all, he had resolved not to get involved—a young single mum was the last thing he needed. She was so young and fragile and he was so jaded and bitter, and his heart was closed so tightly. Only sometimes she managed to wedge it open a little...
‘I know you’re awake!’ Reluctantly he broke the silence, smiling a little at her defiant answer.
‘I’m not.’
‘I packed a few things for you—your toothbrush and hairbrush...’
‘Thanks.’
‘Is there anything else you need—a nightdress or anything?’
‘No, thanks,’ she answered, her eyes still closed. ‘Mum said she’d go shopping tomorrow.’
‘How were they?’ Ben asked, even as he told himself he shouldn’t, looking up at the diuretic infusion and the magnesium infusion and then back to her poor, swollen face.
‘Cross.’ More tears were spilling out the sides of her eyes now, and he picked off a few tissues and put them in her hand. ‘They’re still cross with me.’
‘They’re worried,’ Ben said.
‘And cross,’ Celeste said. ‘And so are you.’
‘Cross?’ Ben frowned. ‘Celeste, why would I be cross...?’ His voice faded as her eyes opened to him, because she was right. Cross was how he felt—or was he just worried?
He truly didn’t know.
‘Because we kissed...because you think I just go around flinging myself at men—’
‘No,’ Ben interrupted, ‘I’m not cross at you for that, I’m cross with myself.’
‘Why?’
‘Because...’ He blew out a breath, and he couldn’t help but admire her for being so open, for just bringing it out. He sat on the bed, because he definitely wasn’t a doctor dropping in now. ‘Because I’m the last thing you need right now.’
‘You don’t know what I need.’
‘You don’t need me,’ Ben said very firmly, very surely. ‘Since Jen, I’ve had a few relationships and they don’t work. You’ve been messed around enough without getting involved with someone like me, someone who doesn’t want children...’
‘You think I’m after a father for her?’ Celeste asked incredulously. ‘Some long-term commitment from you? Hell, Ben, it was only one kiss!’
‘That shouldn’t have happened,’ Ben said.
‘I know,’ Celeste admitted. He was right, absolutely he was right. ‘You’re wrong about one thing, though,’ she challenged. ‘I’m not after a relationship. I’m having enough trouble getting used to being a mum without someone else in the picture. It’s bad enough that her own father...’ She started to cry then because she couldn’t believe how wrong she’d got it, that the man she had thought she was in love with had thought so very little of her.
‘Have you told him?’ And he said it in such a different way from the way her mum had—not accusing. He just asked the question and watched her face crumple.
‘I rang just before you came...’
‘And?’
‘He doesn’t want to know.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said gently.
‘I’m not,’ Celeste sniffed. ‘Well, I am for her, but not for me. At least I know where I stand. I will be okay on my own, you know!’
‘I know that,’ he said with a small smile at her vehemence.
‘And I’m not after a partner or a surrogate father for the baby—it was just one stupid kiss and I regret it, because I really did like having you as a friend and I hate that it’s been spoilt.’
‘You were the one who told me not to drop round,’ he pointed out.
‘You were glad that I did,’ she accused.
She was so honest, all he could do was smile at her again. ‘We should have spoken about it,’ Ben admitted. ‘Tried to work it out.’
‘That’s what friends do,’ Celeste said.
‘That’s what we are doing,’ Ben replied. ‘So I guess that’s what we are.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly,’ Ben said, and to prove it he squeezed her fat sausage-like fingers. ‘Have you got a name for her yet?’
‘Nope,’ she sighed.
‘Any ideas?’
‘About a thousand...’
‘I’d better get down to work.’ He stood up. He wasn’t making excuses, he was already five minutes late. ‘I’ll drop by soon, but call if you need anything.’
‘I will.’ She gave him a watery smile, glad they were friends again, and so grateful to him for his skill today and for his honesty tonight.
Yet she had been honest too. She didn’t want a father for the baby, neither was there a need for a relationship to survive....
And that thought was confirmed when at midnight she finally got to hold her.
She held this little scrap of a thing to her heart and thought it might burst as finally love whooshed in.
She stared at her daughter.
Just a few hours old and so, so , so raw and vulnerable and so reliant on her. No, she didn’t need a surrogate father or a partner to make things work for her baby. She would take care of that all by herself.
