CHAPTER TWO

      CAITLIN dressed carefully for work on Monday. She knew that Australian hospitals were less formal than Irish ones, especially given the heat, but she wanted to create the right impression. She chose a floaty skirt that, while cool, still looked smart and teamed it with a short-sleeved white blouse. She twisted her hair into a chignon and then she was ready.

      Breakfast was a far rowdier affair than Caitlin was used to. Living alone, she was used to a quiet breakfast with the paper, not this hive of activity. How could such small children make such a racket and how could Brianna think straight with all the noise?

      Niall collected his briefcase and slung an overnight bag over his shoulder. He kissed his wife and sister-in-law goodbye. ‘I’ll be back on Friday,’ he told Brianna. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’

      ‘Go on, you big softy.’ His wife pushed him towards the door. ‘I’ve Caitlin here if I need anything—which I won’t.’ As husband and wife smiled at each other Caitlin felt a pang. What would it feel like to be loved like that? she wondered. Not that she really wanted to find out, she reminded herself. She liked her uncomplicated life back in Dublin exactly the way it was. She had work, loads of friends and plenty of hobbies to keep her busy. The last thing she needed in her life were complications, and if ever she wondered whether she was leading the right life, she just thought about her mother. Although she loved her mother fiercely, her whole life had been taken up with bringing up her large family of three boys and two girls. Caitlin had never seen her mother do anything just for herself. That wasn’t the life Caitlin had mapped out for herself.

      She had just finished breakfast when she heard a toot from the driveway. Looking out, she saw Andrew had arrived in a sports car. He jumped over the door and came to meet her. Unlike on Saturday, he was dressed more formally, in a white shirt and light-coloured chinos. He looked fresh cool and very handsome. He opened the door for her with a flourish.

      ‘Your carriage awaits,’ he said.

      ‘Why, thank you, sir,’ Caitlin quipped back. ‘You are too kind.’

      Soon they were leaving the leafy suburbs behind and were on the freeway. As he drove, Andrew pointed out various landmarks so that Caitlin would find her way the next day. They crossed a bridge, passing modern skyscrapers. Everything seemed as different from Ireland, with its green rolling countryside and the Georgian architecture of Dublin, as it could be.

      ‘What do you think so far?’ he asked.

      ‘Apart from the heat? I think it’s wonderful,’ Caitlin answered.

      ‘It’s not just the beaches, although you have to admit they are the best in the world. The Sunshine Coast is an hour to the north and the Gold Coast about the same distance south. We do some outreach work in both areas, so you’ll get a chance to see them.’

      ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Caitlin replied, gripping onto her seat as Andrew passed a car. Catching her nervous look, he laughed. ‘Hey, don’t worry. You’re in safe hands.’

      Caitlin smiled weakly in response. ‘Tell me about the hospital,’ she said.

      By the time they had pulled up in front of the Queensland Royal, Andrew had given her a brief overview of how the medical system in Australia worked. He was a specialist paediatrician, which Caitlin already knew, and had a special interest in heart problems in neonates. The hospital was a gleaming, modern affair, all glass and stainless steel. Andrew told Caitlin that it had some of the best facilities in Australia.

      As they got out of the car, an ambulance pulled up, its lights flashing. A trio of nurses was waiting at the entrance, ready to receive the casualties. Caitlin and Andrew were about to leave them to it when a nurse noticed his arrival.

      ‘Could you hold on a minute, Dr Bedi?’ she said. ‘We might need you.’

      Unsure where to go, Caitlin watched as the patient was unloaded. Immediately she could see that it was a woman in advanced pregnancy. From the look of distress on her face, it appeared she was in labour. Suddenly she felt her reflexes kick in. She moved towards the group, making a rapid judgement.

      ‘Mrs Roland is in the end stage of labour,’ the paramedic intoned. ‘She was due to have her baby at home, but the midwife felt that labour wasn’t progressing quickly enough and decided to call us. The baby’s heartbeat has dropped.’

      ‘I’m Dr O’Neill,’ Caitlin introduced herself. ‘One of the obstetricians. Let’s get her inside so we can assess her.’

      Once inside Caitlin carried out a rapid examination of the woman. It only took her a few seconds to realise that the placenta was lying in front of the baby. It was something that every obstetrician came across on a regular basis. Nevertheless, if they didn’t get the baby delivered there was a chance the woman would bleed to death. In every country there were several maternal deaths every year due to the condition. There was no time to lose. Every second counted if they were to save the woman and her unborn child. ‘Placenta praevia,’ she said. ‘She needs to go to Theatre immediately.’

      ‘I’ll tell Theatre to expect us,’ one of the nurses said, turning towards the phone.

      ‘I’ll scrub in too,’ Andrew said. Even if they managed to get the baby delivered safely there was every chance it might need resuscitating. ‘C’mon, Caitlin, let’s go.’

      Caitlin struggled to keep up with his long strides as they rushed towards Theatre. A nurse handed her some scrubs and clogs and she scrubbed up beside Andrew, mentally counting off the minutes.

      ‘Right in at the deep end,’ Andrew said sympathetically. ‘We didn’t even manage to get you up to the ward.’

      By the time they were scrubbed and gowned, Mrs Roland had been anesthetised and was lying prepped on the theatre table.

      Caitlin cut into the abdomen from left to right just above the pubic bone. As the skin separated, she made another incision into the uterus, careful not to damage the precious contents. As she pulled the baby out, she glanced at the clock. Ten minutes had passed since the patient had arrived at the hospital. She was pleased to see none of her speed had deserted her.

      The baby, a little boy, was slightly floppy and blue. Caitlin handed him to the midwife, who rushed the baby across to the resuscitator.

      ‘He’s a bit flat,’ the midwife called out. As Caitlin started to close she was aware of the tension in the room. Andrew needed to get oxygen into the baby, and soon. Across the woman’s abdomen she watched as he tipped the baby’s head back gently before slipping in a paediatric endotracheal tube, feeling his way through the larynx and into the lungs. Then he attached an ambu-bag and started feeding oxygen into the tiny lungs. Every movement he made was calm and assured, and this fed into the atmosphere of the theatre. There was no panic. Everyone was simply going about their jobs quietly and efficiently. Caitlin was impressed. She guessed the team had worked together many times before.’

      ‘Heart rate 140 and he’s a good colour now,’ Andrew announced to the room to a collective sigh of relief. ‘I think baby is going to be fine. We’ll get them up to Special Care, but I think we should be able to reunite mother and baby quite soon.’

      ‘Maybe not tonight,’ Caitlin said. ‘I’ll want to keep an eye on her in the labour ward overnight, in case of postpartum haemorrhage.’

      While the