CHAPTER ONE

      THE crack split the airwaves as unnervingly as gunfire.

      ‘My God, what was that?’ The fear in the woman’s eyes had nothing to do with the reason she was lying on a hospital bed.

      Dr Jennifer Tremaine turned away from the window with a reassuring smile. ‘Nobody’s been shot, Liz. It’s just a branch coming down on that old twisted willow by the front gate.’

      Elizabeth Bailey settled back onto her pillows reluctantly. ‘Must have been a pretty big branch.’

      ‘It was. I think some of these wind gusts are getting over a hundred kilometres an hour.’

      A nurse smoothed the final piece of clean linen into the bassinet with a satisfied pat. Then she straightened, turning suddenly as a fresh gust of wind rattled the window viciously and sent droplets of water against the glass with enough force to sound like a shower of small pebbles.

      ‘I thought this was supposed to be the tail end of that southerly storm.’ The nurse, Wendy Granger, peered out of the window. ‘It looks a lot closer to the head end to me.’

      ‘At least we had plenty of warning. The fishing boats should all be in and they closed the school early.’ Jennifer Tremaine frowned as she picked up the chart lying on the end of Elizabeth’s bed. The small rural community of Akaroa, nestled into a peninsula on the South Island of New Zealand, wasn’t used to winter weather of such severity but preparations had been a focus all day. The young doctor’s immediate concerns were much closer. If she needed back-up for any complications with Elizabeth’s labour, the nearest large centre was Christchurch. Evacuation by air was clearly out of the question already, and even in good weather transport by road took an hour and a half.

      ‘That branch has blocked the front driveway completely,’ Wendy announced. ‘I hope no one’s been injured.’

      ‘You and me both.’ Jennifer glanced at her watch. ‘I must ring home. I want to check that the children are all back from school safely.’ She frowned again, her attention still on her watch. ‘It’s over ten minutes since your last contraction, Liz. You’re slowing down again.’

      ‘Oh, no! Is this going to be another false alarm?’

      ‘I guess we’ll have to wait and see.’ Jennifer smiled at her patient. ‘One thing’s for sure, we won’t be sending you home in a hurry in this sort of weather. As I explained to you yesterday, the position your baby is in is likely to make the first stage of labour quite a lot longer than usual. The backache you’re getting is the other major disadvantage.’

      Liz sighed heavily. ‘Trust Peter’s child to be difficult before it’s even born. Like father, like son—or daughter,’ she added.

      ‘Have you heard from Peter again?’

      ‘He rang half an hour ago. The airport at Dunedin is closed because of the weather. There’s no chance of him getting back tonight. I hope it is another false alarm.’

      ‘How’s your back feeling?’

      ‘Sore,