‘No. Nothing. I just…’ Frantically she searched for some explanation that would satisfy the patient. ‘I just remembered that I had to ring the lab about some results. Not yours. Someone else’s.’
How could she not have realised?
She’d been so affronted when Patrick had assumed she was pregnant, it hadn’t even occurred to her that she might be pregnant. She desperately wanted to go through her diary and check the dates, but Olivia was still chatting.
Somehow Hayley managed to finish the conversation and then she hurried to the desk. ‘Maggie, I’m sorry but I have to go to the staffroom for a minute.’ Panic engulfed her like rolling clouds and she barely registered Maggie’s concerned look before she fled from the department, her heart beating and tears stinging the back of her eyes.
Please, no. Please let her be wrong. Let her have miscalculated, missed a week. Please, please…
The staffroom on the labour ward was empty and she rummaged through her bag and found her diary. Her fingers were shaking so badly it took ages to find November and check the date she needed to know. And as soon as she saw it, she dropped the book back into her bag and stared blankly at the chipped paint on the wall. She didn’t need to count twenty-eight days to know that her period was now over a week late. She’d lost track.
She didn’t even need to do a pregnancy test.
She knew.
And she also knew that her relationship with Patrick was over.
Pregnancy was no basis for a relationship, was it?
He’d made that clear to her.
And she was very definitely pregnant.
‘What do you mean, she just ran out of clinic?’ Patrick frowned. ‘Was she feeling ill or something?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ Maggie shrugged helplessly. ‘Actually, I think she looked more upset than sick, but she didn’t say anything to me.’
‘Well, that’s unusual,’ Patrick drawled, ‘because Hayley always tells everyone what’s on her mind.’
‘That’s what I love about her,’ Maggie said stoutly, and Patrick gave a faint smile.
‘And that’s why you can stop worrying. As soon as I track her down, she’ll tell me what’s wrong and we can fix it. At least with Hayley you know where you are.’
‘Yes.’ Maggie looked at him doubtfully. ‘Yes, you’re right. Go and find her, Patrick.’
Patrick glanced at the clock. ‘I’m due in Theatre in thirty minutes. I have a gynae list.’
‘Thirty minutes is ages…’ Maggie pushed him towards the door ‘…and Hayley talks quickly. Go, Patrick. She really did look upset and I’m worried about her.’
Patrick took the stairs to the labour ward, mentally listing the things that could be wrong with Hayley.
They’d had a wonderful evening the night before, but it had been a late night. Was she tired?
Had a patient been rude to her?
Had a member of staff offended her?
Or maybe she was feeling poorly. There were certainly plenty of people off sick with flu.
Pushing open the door of the staffroom, he saw Sally sitting there, talking to Tom.
‘Hi, Patrick.’ Sally gave a sheepish smile. ‘I was bored with the ward so I came up here for a change. How are you doing?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ Patrick barely registered
her. ‘Have either of you seen Hayley?’
‘No. Why?’ Tom frowned. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be operating?’