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Back Under a Dark Cloud Save as PDF
Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Part 1
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. Part 2
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. Part 3
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. Acknowledgements
  74. Next in Series
  75. Canelo Crime
  76. About the Author
  77. Also by Louisa Scarr

The midwife took over. Taking her blood pressure, strap round her tummy to monitor the baby’s heartbeat. A steady feed to the machine next to her. She lay on the bed, the canister of gas and air reassuring by her side, determined not to use it.

‘There’s no award for tolerating the pain, love,’ her midwife said. But not yet, Liv thought. Not until it gets really bad.

And it did. Worse than she imagined. Floods of agony that rolled down from the top of her belly to the bottom. Clenching her fists, she counted as she tried to breathe, but nothing helped, until she sucked on the gas desperately.

She felt sick; she couldn’t eat. She tried walking up and down the room, but her legs felt wobbly. She was forced to lie on the bed. The face of the midwife changed from supportive understanding to concern. Doctors arrived, standing over the heart-rate printout with stern faces. They introduced themselves, explained what was going on, but she couldn’t remember what they said. Only that her labour wasn’t progressing the way it should. That the baby was stuck.

The midwife came and stood next to her bed. ‘Honey,’ she said slowly, her voice measured with controlled calm. ‘Is there anyone you can call? Anyone?’

Her determination faded. She was tired, dizzy, confused. She wanted someone here. Someone who could take charge. Who could deal with panic, and stress, and hard decisions.

And Liv thought of Robin.

51

Robin explains who he’s here for and they hurry him through to her room. Liv’s on the bed, on her side, her hair damp, her face contorted in pain. There’s a midwife next to her, and he pauses in the doorway for a moment, frozen by the unfamiliarity of the scene.

Liv looks at him through half-closed eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Robin. I didn’t want… I didn’t think…’

He reaches out and takes her hand. It’s sweaty and hot. ‘It’s fine, Liv. Don’t worry.’ He turns to the midwife next to him. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Liv’s in established labour, but we’re concerned. Things aren’t progressing as they should, and from the ultrasound, we believe the baby’s turned and is now in a breech position.’

‘Can she give birth like that?’ Robin asks.

‘It’s possible. But he seems to be in distress. If his heart rate drops again, we’ll have to go for an emergency C-section. We’d rather take her in now. Manage the situation before anything gets worse.’

Liv turns to him. ‘I don’t want that. I want to give birth naturally,’ she says. But even Robin can see she’s weak, barely holding onto the reality of what’s happening around her.