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‘Hannah. What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I’m just a bit hot and bothered, that’s all.’
Itwasunseasonably hot. The barometer had been hitting the mid-thirties for the last week, and in hindsight perhaps it wasn’t the weather for traipsing around the shops. But we’d had this date in the diary for weeks now. William was away on an overseas business trip, and I had annual leave to use up, so it had seemed like the perfect time to arrange a girly day out.
‘Do you want to go home?’ I asked worriedly, already trying to work out how long it would take us to get back to my car, which I’d left at the park-and-ride.
Hannah straightened and shook her head. These days she wore her dark, silky hair in a precision-cut bob that fell back into place like a swinging pendulum.
The tightness around her jaw had slackened enough for her to smile.
‘No. We’ve not even been out for an hour yet. Maybe I’m just hungry,’ she said, sounding as though she was trying to convince herself more than me.
‘Well, we could go for brunch now if you like, rather than wait.’
Hannah nodded gratefully and I was happy to let myself think everything was okay, even though the arm she slipped through the crook of mine felt as though it was seeking support rather than expressing affection.
We’d made a reservation at a popular hipster eatery, and it should only have taken us ten minutes to walk there from the piazza. But Hannah kept stopping to look in every other shop window, even the boring ones – and I still didn’t twig why.
‘Mountain climbing?’ I laughed as she stared intently at an outdoor activity display. ‘I don’t think you and your bump are going to be doing much of that in the foreseeable future,’ I joked.
Hannah’s free hand came down and cradled the only just visible swell of her stomach. She kept her hand there, as though in comfort, as we walked the rest of the way to the restaurant, and I never even thought to question it.
‘Outside, but definitely in the shade,’ Hannah said decisively when the waiter asked us where we’d like to sit.
I stole several surreptitious glances at her as we were led to a table beneath the boughs of a flowering tree.
As though we’d just crossed the Sahara, Hannah drank greedily from the glass of iced water placed before her.
‘Hannah. Somethingiswrong. I can see it is.’
She shook her head, still trying to deny what her body must surely have been screaming at her in no uncertain terms.
It was only when I reluctantly picked up the menu and began to run my eye down the brunch choices that Hannah reached across the table and grasped my wrist in a grip tight enough to leave white fingertip imprints on my skin.
‘I think it’s the baby,’ she said in a frightened whisper.
The blood drained from my face in panic. If there was a contest to see which of us was the paler right then, it would have been a close call.
I pulled my phone from my bag.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m calling for an ambulance.’
The grip on my wrist tightened further, like a manacle of torture.
‘No,’ she hissed. ‘No ambulance. Just get us a cab and get me to the hospital.’
Within minutes I was helping her into the back seat of a taxi. I directed the driver to take us to the nearest hospital, but Hannah once again overrode me. ‘No. I want to go to St Thomas’s. That’s where the consultant I’m under is based.’
‘Hannah, that’s miles from here. We’d have to drive past God only knows how many hospitals to get there.’
‘Please, Gemma,’ Hannah pleaded. ‘They have all my medical notes and details about what happened last time. Please take me there.’ There were tears on both of our cheeks as I relayed her instructions to the cab driver.
*
The clanging of the bell above the door brought me abruptly back to the present. Behind the counter, the female barista’s attention had been claimed by a sudden influx of customers grabbing takeaways for their journey home. They were dressed in hospital tunics, and it was hard to reconcile the laughing, rumbustious group with the dedicated professionals who were right now working to save Hannah’s baby.
