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atter whether he loved her or not. She trusted his judgement and she felt safe with him.
‘He was in here having a kip and then he was called down to labour ward again,’ Polly told her. ‘One of the registrars was having problems with someone and popped up to ask his opinion.’
And she hadn’t even heard him leave. She must have slept like the dead. ‘Will you call him for me?’
Polly nodded. ‘Right away.’
Tia watched her leave the room and tried not to panic. The baby should be fine. She was just thirty-four weeks pregnant, which was early, of course, but not as seriously early as it might have been. The baby might well have problems, but surely he shouldn’t die?
Polly was back in the room a moment later with the CTG machine. The CTG—or cardiotocograph—gave a graphic record of the response of the foetal heart to uterine activity, as well as information about its rhythm and rate.
Tia shifted in the bed until she was more comfortable and then Polly strapped an ultrasound transducer to her abdomen.
‘Right…’ Polly adjusted the strap and fiddled with the machine. ‘Let’s see what this tells us…’
Tia relaxed slightly as she heard the reassuring galloping of the baby’s heart.
Polly’s eyes were fixed on the machine and she rested a hand on the top of Tia’s abdomen to feel for any contractions.
Seconds later Tia felt the pain begin to build and grip her. With a moan she shifted again, trying to find some relief from the agony, but the pain was so intense she could barely breathe.
‘Well, you’re definitely having strong contractions,’ Polly muttered, watching the machine and then glancing at Tia. ‘I’ll go and try Luca again.’
‘I’m here.’ His deep voice came from the doorway and he entered the room, his handsome face strained as he instantly assessed the situation. ‘You are in labour, cara?’
The concern on his face and his gentle endearment made her heart turn over.
‘I think so.’ She nodded and gasped as another pain tore through her. ‘Oh. Luca…’
He was beside her in an instant, sliding a lean, brown hand over her abdomen, feeling the strength of her contraction, murmuring encouragement to her as she tried to remember how she was supposed to breathe.
She sagged against the pillows as the contraction ended. ‘Can we stop the labour? I don’t want it to come early.’
Luca squeezed her hand and got to his feet in a fluid movement and looked at the trace on the CTG machine. ‘We need to examine you.’ He turned to Polly. ‘Have you called Dan?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded confirmation and Luca’s mouth tightened.
‘Well, call him again,’ he growled, moving back to Tia, his tension obvious.
Polly vanished and reappeared a moment later with Dan, who was the epitome of calm efficiency.
‘You’re determined to have this baby early aren’t you?’ he said lightly, smiling at Tia and taking the trace Luca handed him.
The next half-hour was a whirl of tests and discussions, and all the time Tia struggled to cope with the contractions, which were becoming more powerful by the minute.
Finally Luca raked a hand through his hair and sat down on the edge of the bed.
‘We have all talked about it and we are agreed that we need to get this baby out, Tia,’ he said quietly, his dark eyes holding hers. ‘I know you don’t want to have it early, but we don’t have any choice. Your labour is too advanced to stop it, and there is some evidence of mild foetal distress.’
Tia’s eyes widened anxiously. ‘How mild?’
‘Our baby is fine at the moment,’ Luca reassured her quickly, ‘but we are all agreed that we should deliver him or her as soon as possible. How do you feel about having a section?’
Tia swallowed. This wasn’t happening the way she’d expected. Naïvely she’d expected a perfectly normal delivery—the sort that she’d helped so many women with since she’d qualified as a midwife. She’d never thought that she’d be in the ‘complications’ category.
Suddenly she felt hideously frightened and it must have shown because Luca quickly turned to his colleagues.
‘Give us five minutes alone, please.’
