Free Bridesmaid Blitz by Sarah Webb Page B

right?”
    Now she’s done it! I cringe and put my hand over my eyes, utterly mortified.
    The doctor laughs nervously, and I star my fingers to spy on him. He has lovely, even, Hollywood-white teeth and looks embarrassed yet amused at the same time. He clearly doesn’t know quite what to say in reply to Clover’s comment, though. “Um,” he stammers. “Well . . .”
    “How’s Shelly?” I ask quickly, taking down my hand and putting him out of his misery.
    He looks relieved. “She’s eight centimeters dilated, so I’m going to take her straight up to the delivery room,” he says, happy to be back on familiar ground. “The baby’s early, but she’s in full labor, so there’s no stopping it now.”
    “Is the baby going to be OK?” I say, tears pricking my eyes. “We came as quickly as we could. Got a Garda escort and everything.”
    He sits down beside me on the edge of the seat. “Please don’t upset yourself. Getting her here a few minutes earlier wouldn’t have made any difference. And there’s nothing the paramedics could have done that you didn’t.” He pats my hand. “Your mum said you did a great job of keeping her calm and focused. She told me you helped her breathe through the contractions.”
    My mum?
That’s a laugh. But I don’t have the energy to explain.
    “Some babies have a mind of their own,” he continues, “due date or not. The signs are good: strong heartbeat, no evidence of distress. We won’t know the full picture till after the delivery, I’m afraid. But babies are a lot tougher than you think. They’re little fighters.”
    I nod gratefully. And then I remember what Seth said about Polly — that he didn’t want her to have to
fight
. Is Dr. McKenna saying the baby’s going to struggle to survive? My mind races, thinking about Shelly; her terrified gray face floats in front of my eyes.
    “Any sign of your dad yet?” he asks me. “She’s asking for him.”
    I’m too caught up in thought to answer, so Clover says, “We’ll let you know as soon as he arrives. Tell Shelly not to worry; he shouldn’t be too long now.”
    “Good. Send him over to reception as soon as he arrives. Ask them to page me.” He stands up. “I need to get back to my patients now, but try not to worry, OK?”
    After he’s left, Clover says, “You all right, Beanie? You’ve gone very quiet.”
    “What if the baby doesn’t make it?” I say, my stomach in knots. “What if it dies?”
    “You heard the doctor — the signs are all good.” She pushes back a wisp of hair that has fallen over my eyes. “He said not to worry, remember?”
    “But the baby hasn’t even been born yet. What if it pops out and it can’t breathe or something ’cos it’s too little?” My eyes start to tear up, and tiny beads of cold sweat dot my palms. I rub them on my jeans as the tears start streaming down my face.
    Clover takes my hand. Weaving her fingers through mine, she squeezes gently. “It’ll be all right, Beanie. Trust me. I know all this waiting’s hard, but you heard the doc: it won’t be long now.”
    “Where’s Dad, Clover?” I say, starting to feel a little hysterical. “It’s not fair!
He
should be here, dealing with all this. I feel so helpless. We’re just sitting here, doing nothing. And what about Shelly? Shouldn’t someone be in there with her? She’s probably scared out of her wits by this stage.” I pull my hand out of hers, whip my mobile out, and, ignoring the sign saying NO MOBILES , start to press in Dad’s number.
    “Beanie, listen to me,” Clover says gently, taking the phone out of my hand. She clicks to end the call. “He’s on his way, I swear. He just can’t hear his phone. Helicopters are noisy beasts.”
    “Helicopters?” I gape at her.

Clover’s right. Half an hour later, Dad runs into the hospital in his golfing gear — pink polo shirt and cream slacks — his temples dotted with sweat. Clover put in some calls on her way from the zoo. She managed