You Had It Coming by B.M. Carroll (snow like ashes series .txt) 📗

has started bleeding. The route takes them past Memorial Park, where Jess had arranged to meet Dylan. Megan has the opportunity to assess how visible the park is to passing traffic. The answer is: not very. She is relieved that Jess didn’t end up going.

‘Natasha never turns to anyone for help, least of all me,’ Jess said when Megan phoned to find out what Dylan had wanted. ‘I just couldn’t send her away. And, oh my God, Lucy might be the cutest baby in the world but her screams can shatter glass.’

Natasha was a remote figure when they were teenagers, so focused on her medical degree that she barely reared her head to join in at mealtimes. Megan was half frightened and half in awe of her (and never quite sure if Natasha even knew her name). Megan is glad that Natasha and Jess are becoming closer, and especially glad that Natasha’s surprise visit prevented Jess from going to the park. The more she thinks about it, the more it makes her suspicious. Meeting in a ‘public place’ that’s actually quite secluded. And why now, after all this time? What does Dylan want? It’s easy to underestimate him. The stumbling words. The petrified look on his face. His white trembling hands. He conveyed both remorse and distress as he sat in the witness box. He played the part perfectly; it was far too easy for the jury to feel sorry for him.

A woman is waiting outside the office block, to show them where to go. ‘We’re on the third floor. Jennifer seemed perfectly fine. It started out of nowhere.’

‘First baby?’ Kaz enquires.

‘Yes,’ she says breathlessly. ‘How did you know?’

‘Just an educated guess.’

Jennifer is splayed in an armchair that someone has dragged into the boardroom from somewhere else, a bloody towel scrunched between her legs.

‘Jennifer, how are you doing? My name’s Kaz and this is Megan. Can you feel the baby at the moment?’

‘Yeah. He’s wriggling like crazy.’

That’s good news. Babies of this gestation should be moving pretty continuously. The bad news is that late-pregnancy bleeding can be an indication of placental abruption or uterine rupture.

‘How about contractions?’

‘I’ve been cramping up since I started bleeding.’

The cramping could be either contractions or abdominal pain associated with a haemorrhage. Jennifer needs to be taken to Maternity urgently.

‘How did you feel this morning when you woke up?’

‘I had a backache. Thought nothing of it.’

First-time mothers often miss the signs of impending labour: backache and lower abdominal pressure. Some of them have been faithfully reading pregnancy books, chapter by chapter, to correspond with the current stage of their pregnancy. But some pregnancies don’t follow the book, or skip ahead a few chapters, and next thing there’s a baby on the way.

Kaz continues to fire off questions while Megan concentrates on Jennifer’s vital signs. Her blood pressure is low and her skin is clammy, indications that she has lost a fair amount of blood.

‘How old are you, Jennifer?’

‘Thirty-two … Is my baby going to be okay?’

Kaz is her usual matter-of-fact self. ‘I’m not going to lie to you, darl. Bleeding at this stage is a bit of a worry … Has anyone called your partner?’

‘Yes,’ the colleague answers, from where she’s standing at the doorway. ‘He’s on his way.’

‘Tell him to go directly to Royal North Shore Maternity. Bring Jennifer’s overnight bag and things for the baby.’

The delivery will be an emergency C-section because of the blood loss and the baby’s distress. In the back of the ambulance, they manoeuvre Jennifer so that her right hip is elevated and check again to make sure there’s no evidence of cord prolapse. She has begun to have proper contractions. Time is of the essence: they do not want a vaginal delivery, given the risks to mother and baby.

Megan jumps behind the wheel while Kaz attends to Jennifer and her baby.

‘You’d be doing me a big favour if you can hold off having this bub until we reach the hospital, darl. Is that a deal?’

‘I’ll try my best,’ Jennifer pants in response.

The lunchtime traffic is gridlocked. Cars try to make space when they hear the wail of the siren, but they can only do so much. At one intersection, Megan has no choice but to go down the opposite side of the road, always a heart-in-mouth scenario – all it takes is one driver to barge through without noticing them.

‘Focus on your breathing,’ Kaz says from behind. ‘Inhale slowly through your nose, exhale through the mouth in a long sigh … I’m not seeing any bits of baby presenting, so that’s good! Let’s keep that bub inside.’

Kaz has made all the medical interventions she can; psychological interventions are all that’s left. ‘You’re doing great, darl. Squeeze the hell out of my hand. We’re nearly there now.’

The baby, a boy, is born by C-section forty minutes later. Megan and Kaz receive word just as they’re arriving back at base. The baby is healthy except for his lungs, which are underdeveloped. Jennifer is in recovery after the surgery and a blood transfusion.

‘Thank God for that.’ Kaz breathes a sigh of relief. ‘That was a close one.’

They go straight to the kitchen for tea and chocolate biscuits. Adrenalin rapidly gives way to exhaustion in the aftermath of an emergency.

‘To Jennifer and her baby boy,’ Kaz says, and they clink their mismatched mugs.

‘So, this is where you two are hiding.’ It’s Sakar, one of the senior paramedics.

‘Just celebrating a close call with a mum and bub.’ Kaz wipes some biscuit crumbs from her navy pants. ‘How many babies have you delivered in your day, Sakar?’

Sakar has thirty-odd years on the job; he’s a good person to share war stories with. ‘Twenty-four. I count them. Each one is a miracle.’

‘Any with placental abruption and severe bleeding?’

‘No, you got me there. Hey, I have something for you both.’

Sakar hands them identical cream envelopes. Megan’s first thought is that it’s another card from Joshua Newson, which is irrational, because why would Kaz get one too? She