Seacliff

Chapter thirty-nine: The Mortimers in action

1920

In the heat of the moment, James hadn't realised that helping the patient on the back of the car would allow Saoirse to hop behind the wheel first.

"Will ye be all right to drive, Sister?"

Mr McLellan's question made James look at the driver.

In lieu of an answer, Saoirse started the car. The one-armed veteran sitting beside her snatched the cap off his head in awe. James had no time or reason to comment. Poor Mrs McLellan, further along in her pregnancy than Saoirse, required some gentle, comforting reassurances that having her baby cut out of her really would be for the best.

Dr Mortimer tried his utmost to pacify her as they sped along the Edinburgh-bound road. It struck him in that moment how dependent he'd become on his wife's diplomatic stoicism. It had been Saoirse, quite heavily pregnant herself, who had informed Mr and Mrs McLellan of the toxaemia diagnosis and explained what a Caesarean section was and why it would be necessary.

It had also been Saoirse's directions as to who should do what that reawakened the Tommy in Arthur McLellan, thus preventing him from crumbling under the weight of his nerves. Unlike grumpy old O'Donnell, sensitive and spirited McLellan had salvaged his good mood upon returning home, despite losing a limb at Gallipoli.

The young man loved his wife to bits. If anything were to happen to either her, or their baby...

"It'll be all right," James whispered to his patient, squeezing her hand tighter. "I'll be right there with you, every step of the way."

The journey seemed longer, even though they were driving faster than ever before. James blessed the exceptional Hispano-Suiza and Saoirse's steady hand on the wheel. His wife had long argued that North Berwick needed an ambulance convoy of its own. The local hospital was barely more than a hospice and their patients had to travel to Edinburgh for surgical procedures.

In cases of dire emergency, however, they were painfully exposed.

He would bring it up after Saoirse gave birth. A community ambulance service, which they could recruit veterans for. Perhaps even women, as both nurses and drivers. James filed the thought away for the moment and refocused on the task at hand: Mrs McLellan in agony.

They had entered the city and were approaching the hospital. He'd called ahead while Saoirse had broken the news to the spouses. The medical staff should be expecting them, prepared for the surgery.

Yet as they pulled up outside the hospital, there was no welcoming party save for a lone, confused guard. Saoirse waddled off the car and marched up to him. Despite her considerable baby bump, her features were set in a stern expression that commanded attention and deference.

James could just about hear her speak.

"I'm Sergeant Quinn – Saoirse... I mean, Saoirse Mortimer. My husband, Dr Mortimer, is on the back of that car with a toxaemic patient, scheduled for an emergency Caesarean. Where are the stretcher bearers?"

The guard looked like he mumbled something, only his voice didn't carry as far as Saoirse's had.

"Well, fetch them at once," she ordered. "Chop-chop!"

The guard bowed briskly and dashed inside the hospital. When she returned to the car, Saoirse had a broad smile on her lips and Mrs McLellan relaxed in James's arms at the mere sight of it.

"They'll be here in a minute, Maggie," Saoirse said in a soothing tone. "Dr Mortimer will go in with you and help with the operation. Be brave, my darling, be brave for your baby."

Like Saoirse had promised, the orderlies soon emerged from the hospital with their stretcher and helped the patient off the car and onto it. Mr McLellan followed them inside, but James lingered behind for a second to check on his wife. Her eyes alone betrayed her tiredness.

"You can drive back home, if you wish," he said. "I'll take the train."

"Oh, nonsense. Do you think Natsume will have me? Or if not, I could call in at Mary's."

"Yes, better try Mary's first. The servants will let you in if she's not home. You need to rest."

His hand dropped from her shoulder to her belly at the same time as she gasped with a jolt from a little kick inside her womb. A smile instantly bloomed on his face.

"Take care, love." He kissed her forehead, their hands overlapped on her bump, then he pulled away and rushed into the hospital.

*

The surgery was a success.

Both mother and baby were well and James kept Mrs McLellan under strict supervision for a few hours. Once the immediate danger of an eclampsia seizure had passed and the sky outside had darkened, he instructed the nurses to watch over Mrs McLellan closely and decided to take his leave.

As he wandered the hospital halls towards the exit, he had the wicked luck to pass by his father, in his immaculate white coat with round spectacles pinching his nose, above his respectable, grizzled moustache. James pursed his lips.

"Dr Mortimer," his father greeted first.

"Sir Alexander," James replied, without stopping. His fists clenched by his side and he ignored his name being called once, twice...

"James Robert Mortimer!"

The young doctor froze in his tracks. His father's ominous steps resounded like an incoming war drum on the stone floor. James didn't turn around.

"How is your wife?"

"Why do you care?" James spat over his shoulder.

"Seeing as how you are going to give the child my name – "

"Unfortunately for you, it is my name, also."

"James..." Sir Alexander sighed. "I do believe the baby is blameless in all of this and I mean it no harm. And knowing she will have a grandchild has improved your mother's spirits. But James, you and I both know you'll be raising another man's child."

James whipped round with a vengeance. "Saoirse is my wife and her baby is our baby."

Sir Alexander laughed, devoid of any actual amusement. "Do you honestly expect me to believe you put that baby in her? Please!"

James's cheeks flushed red with fury and he didn't bother to dignify his father's taunt with a response. Saoirse must have been worried sick on his account by now – pregnancy had made her overprotective – and he desperately needed some Natsume for his nerves.

And perhaps a smidge of Scotch when his wife wasn't looking.