Just One Night?. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
evening she’d had a budget meeting scheduled which, on the news of Cathy’s arrival, Isla had excused herself from. As well as that, she’d had drinks scheduled at the Rooftop Garden Bar to welcome Alessandro Manos, a neonatologist who was due to start at the Victoria on Monday.
For now it could all simply wait.
There was no way that Isla would miss this birth.
At twenty-eight years of age Isla was young for such a senior position and a lot of people had at first assumed that Isla had got the job simply because her father, Charles Delamere, was the CEO of the Victoria.
They’d soon found out otherwise.
Yes, outside the hospital Isla and her sister Isabel, the obstetrician who was operating on Cathy this evening, were very well known thanks to their prominent family. Glamorous, gorgeous and blonde, the press followed the sisters’ busy lives with interest. There were many functions they were expected to attend and the two women shared a luxurious penthouse and dressed in the latest designer clothes and regularly stepped onto the red carpet.
That was all work to Isla.
The MMU was her passion, though—here she was herself.
She sat now dressed in scrubs, her long blonde hair tucked beneath a pink theatre cap, her full lips hidden behind a mask, and no one cared in the theatre that she was Isla Delamere, Melbourne socialite, apparently dating Rupert, whom she had gone to school with and who was now a famous Hollywood actor.
To everyone here she was simply Isla—strict, fair and loyal. She expected the same focus and attention from her staff that she gave to the patients, and she generally got it. Some thought her cool and aloof but the mothers generally seemed to appreciate her calm professionalism.
‘Here’s Dan.’ Isla smiled as Dan nervously made his way over. He really was an amazing man and had been an incredible support to his wife through the dark times. His tears had been shed in private, he had told Isla, well away from his shocked wife. Many had said he should share the depths of his grief with Cathy but Isla understood why he chose not to.
Sometimes staying strong meant holding back.
‘Dan, I’m sure that something is wrong …’ Cathy said.
Dan glanced over at Isla, who gave him a small, reassuring shake of the head as her eyes told him that everything was fine.
‘Everything is going well, Cathy,’ Dan said. ‘You’re doing an amazing job, so just try and relax …’
‘I can feel something,’ Cathy said in a panicked voice, and Isla stepped in.
‘Do you remember that I said you would feel some tugging?’ Isla reminded her.
‘Cathy!’ Isabel’s voice alerted Isla. ‘Your baby is nearly out—look up at the screen …’
Isla looked up to the green sheets that had been placed so that Cathy could not see the surgery going on on the other side. ‘Your baby is out,’ Isabel said, ‘and looks amazing …’
‘There’s no crying,’ Cathy said.
‘Just wait, Cathy,’ Dan said, his voice reassuring his wife, though the poor man must be terrified.
Even Isla, who was very used to the frequent delay between birth and tears, found that she was holding her breath, though Cathy could never have guessed her midwife’s nerves—Isla hid her emotions extremely well.
And not just from the staff and patients.
‘Cathy!’ Isla said. ‘Look!’
There he was.
Isabel was holding up a beautiful baby boy with a mass of dark, spiky hair. His mouth opened wide and he let out the most ear-piercing scream, absolutely furious to be woken from a lovely sleep, to be born, of all things!
‘He’s beautiful,’ Dan said. ‘Cathy, look how beautiful he is. You did so well, I’m so proud of you.’
The baby was whisked away for a brief check and Isla made her way over as Isabel continued with the surgery.
He really was perfect.
Four weeks early, he was still a nice size and very alert. The paediatrician was happy with him and the theatre midwife wrapped him in a pale cream blanket and popped on a small hat. He would be more thoroughly checked later but that visit to the parents, if well enough, came first.
Isla took the little baby, all warm and crying, into her arms and she felt a huge gush of emotion. She had known that this birth would be emotional, but the feeling of finally being able to hand this gorgeous couple a healthy baby was a special moment indeed.
She held the baby so that Cathy could turn her head and give him a kiss and then Isla placed him on Cathy’s chest as Dan put his arms around his little family.
Isla said nothing. They deserved this time to themselves and she did all she could to make this time as private as a theatre could allow it to be. She stood watching as they met their son. Dan properly broke down and cried in front of his wife for the first time.
‘I can’t believe I’m finally a mum …’ Cathy said, and then her eyes lifted and met Isla’s. ‘I mean …’
When Isla spoke, she was well aware of the conflicting feelings that Cathy might have.
‘You’ve been a mum for a very long time,’ Isla said, gently referring to their difficult journey. ‘Now you get the reward.’
Isla’s time with Cathy and Dan didn’t finish there, though. After Cathy had been sutured and Recovery was happy with her status, Isla saw them back to the ward. Cathy simply could not stop looking at her baby and Dan was immensely proud of both his wife and son.
They had made it to parenthood.
Before Cathy was discharged Isla would have a long talk with her. Often with long-awaited babies depression followed. It was a very confusing time for the new mother—often she felt guilty as everyone around her was telling her how happy she must be, how perfect things were. In fact, exhaustion, grief over previous pregnancies, failure to live up to the standards they had set themselves could cause a crushing depression in the postnatal period. Isla would speak with both Dan and Cathy about it before the family went home.
But not tonight.
For now it really was about celebrating this wonderful new life.
‘I’m going to have a glass of champagne for you tonight,’ Isla said as she left them to enjoy this special time.
She said goodbye to the staff on the ward then headed around to the changing room.
She’d forgotten her dress, Isla realised as soon as she opened her locker. She could picture it hanging on her bedroom door and hadn’t remembered to grab it when she’d dashed for work that morning.
She glanced at the time and realised she would be horribly late if she went home to change. She knew that she really ought to go straight there as there weren’t many people able to make it, given that it was Valentine’s Day. Alessandro had apparently been doing a run of nights in his previous job and had booked to go away for the weekend with his girlfriend before he started his new role.
Isla rummaged through her locker to see if there was an outfit that she could somehow cobble together. She didn’t have much luck! There was a pair of denim shorts that she had intended to wear with runners. Isla had actually meant to start walking during her lunch break but, of course, it had never happened. She could hardly turn up at the Rooftop Bar in shorts and the skimpy T-shirt and runners that she had in her locker, but then she saw a pair of cream wedged espadrilles that she had lent to a colleague and which had been returned.
Isla tried it all on but the sandals pushed her outfit from far too casual to far too tarty.
Oh, well, it would have to do. She was more than used to turning heads. She didn’t even question if there was a dress code that needed to be