When Polly came round from the anaesthetic, it took her a while to work out where she was and why she was lying in a hospital bed and not in her own. Her head felt foggy and her mouth dry.
Then, all of a sudden, everything came back to her like a bolt of lightning.
She craned her neck and saw a nurse dressed in a blue uniform and starched white apron at the bottom of her bed.
‘My baby?’ Her voice was croaky and full of fear; of her terror at what the answer might be.
Her hand automatically went to her stomach.
Please, God, please, let my baby be all right, she begged silently in her head.
Seeing her patient was waking up, the nurse quickly walked out of the room.
Seconds later Dr Parker appeared.
‘Please … please tell me my baby’s all right?’ Polly asked. The desperation in her voice was heartbreaking. Tears were pooling in her eyes.
Dr Parker moved towards the bed and sat down on the chair next to her. His thoughts spun back momentarily to September when he had come to see Helen in this very room.
He took hold of Polly’s hand, as he had done Helen’s, and squeezed it.
Polly was staring at Dr Parker’s face, not daring to breathe until she knew.
‘Your baby’s fine, Polly.’ A reassuring smile appeared on his face. ‘You’re both going to be fine.’
Polly looked at Dr Parker.
He had saved the man she loved, and now he had saved her baby.
She wanted to grab him and hug him, but instead she simply burst out crying.
For the next few minutes, she sobbed from the very core of her being, all the while mouthing the words, ‘Thank you … Thank you.’
‘Much as I would love to take all the credit,’ Dr Parker smiled at Polly, ‘I have to tell you that it was another doctor who really saved your baby.’
Polly pushed herself up on the bed.
‘The one I met before you took me into theatre?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I vaguely remember him telling me his name. It began with B …’
‘Dr Billingham,’ Dr Parker said. ‘He’s one of the best obstetricians in the area. Probably in the country, to be honest. He did all the work. I was just there to assist.’
Polly tried to digest what he was saying.
‘But my baby is definitely all right?’ Polly said.
‘Yes, definitely … but I’m going to get Dr Billingham in to explain exactly what happened. Is that all right?’
Polly nodded.
Dr Parker stood up to leave and Polly grabbed his hand.
‘Thank you. I really can’t thank you enough … And Helen … I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t both been there.’
Dr Parker squeezed her hand, pushed himself out of the seat and left the room.
A few minutes later Dr Billingham bustled in.
‘Well, young lady, you have been a very, very lucky woman.’
He went to check her charts at the bottom of the bed.
‘Yes, you both had the gods on your side this evening. Without a doubt.’
He hooked the charts back and walked around to the side of the bed.
He remained standing.
‘I’m guessing you’re wondering exactly what happened?’
Polly nodded.
Dr Billingham took a deep breath.
‘First of all, do you know what a cervix is?’
Polly shook her head.
Dr Billingham sighed.
Why was it women were so ignorant about their own bodies?
‘The cervix is the neck of the uterus.’ He looked at Polly and saw her confusion. ‘The womb.’
He scratched his head, leaving a tuft of grey hair sticking up.
‘The cervix joins the womb and the vagina.’
He put his hands into the pockets of his white overcoat.
‘For some reason – and we don’t know why this is the case for some women and not others – the cervix isn’t as strong as it should be and when a woman’s pregnant, and the baby is growing, it can start to soften and expand.’
Polly shuffled herself up even more in the bed until she was sitting upright. This was important.
‘And because it’s not as strong as it should be,’ Dr Billingham continued, ‘it can start to open. And when that happens, some of the fluids that are in the womb, helping to make your baby, start to leak through.’
Polly nodded.
‘The water that came out?’
‘That’s right. Those waters are actually the fluids I’m talking about – they fill what is called the amniotic sac, and it is that sac which protects and cushions the baby in the womb. What you experienced was that amniotic fluid leaking out.’
Dr Billingham coughed to clear his throat.
‘And this is the part where you had the gods on your side … There’s never much warning with these things. Occasionally a little spot of blood, a few cramps, but by the sounds of it, you didn’t have any of that?’
Polly shook her head.
‘Just the water,’ she said.
‘If you hadn’t managed to get to the hospital as quickly as you did,’ Dr Billingham said, ‘you would have, without a doubt, lost your baby.’
Polly inhaled sharply. She could feel herself starting to shake a little.
‘What I managed to do before it was too late was something called a cervical cerclage,’ Dr Billingham explained. ‘This is really just a stitch in the cervix. “Cerclage” comes from the French word for the metal hoop around a cask. I suppose it conjures up an appropriate image. The hooped stitch closes the cervix and keeps your baby exactly where it should be until it’s ready to come out. At the proper time, that is.
‘I have to say that you were also doubly lucky that your waters didn’t break properly – you have two layers of membranes and thankfully they didn’t completely rupture. If they had, you’d have lost all your amniotic fluid, and if that had been the case, then there’s no way your baby would have been able to survive.’ Dr Billingham paused. ‘I know this is a lot to take on board, but I’ll be here tomorrow if you want to ask me any more questions.’
Polly nodded. ‘Yes, please, that would be good. Thank you … Thank you very much, Dr Billingham. I really can’t say how thankful I am. And I know my husband would be too if he knew what you’ve done.’
Dr Billingham smiled. John had told him the young girl was newly married and that her husband had worked for the Wear Commissioner and joined the navy as a mine-clearance diver. Brave man.
‘Well, you’ll be able to continue thanking me – and stroking my ego …’ he chuckled ‘ … for the next six months or so, because I’ll be keeping an eye on you. You’ll need to take it easy, and I will be wanting to see you for regular check-ups.’
Charles’s granddaughter had wanted Mrs Watts to have the full works. She had also stipulated that he was to be the one to deliver the baby. He had thought this was a little beneath him – what were midwives for, after all – but he’d been promised a handsome amount of money, which was not to be sniffed at.
‘Righty-ho.’ Dr Billingham brushed his hair back with one hand. ‘You get some rest and I’ll see you again in the morning. And all being well, you should be back in your own bed tomorrow night.’
Polly’s face broke into a wide smile.
It was the first time Dr Billingham had noticed how pretty she was. Her husband was a lucky man.
Or he would be if he made it back in one piece.