‘I wish they were all that easy,’ he told the proud father as the elevator stopped on the ground floor. ‘Still, I’ll drop by this evening, Mr Cartwright, to check on your wife and see how the twins are doing. Not that I anticipate any problems.’
‘Thank you, doctor,’ said Michael. ‘Thank you.’
Dr Greenwood smiled, and would have left the hospital and driven home had he not spotted an elegant lady coming through the swing doors. He walked quickly across to join Ruth Davenport.
Michael Cartwright glanced back to see the doctor holding open the elevator doors for two women, one heavily pregnant. An anxious look had replaced Dr Greenwood’s warm smile. Michael only hoped that the doctor’s latest charge would have as uncomplicated a birth as Susan had managed. He strolled across to his car, trying to think about what needed to be done next, still unable to remove the broad grin from his face.
The first thing he must do was phone his parents... grandparents.
2
Ruth Davenport had already accepted that this would be her last chance. Dr Greenwood, for professional reasons, would not have put it quite so bluntly, although after two miscarriages in as many years, he could not advise his patient to risk becoming pregnant again.
Robert Davenport, on the other hand, was not bound by the same professional etiquette and when he learned that his wife was expecting for a third time, he had been characteristically blunt. He simply issued an ultimatum: ‘this time you will take it easy’, a euphemism for don’t do anything that might harm the birth of our son. Robert Davenport assumed his first born would be a boy. He also knew that it would be difficult, if not impossible, for his wife to ‘take it easy’. She was, after all, the daughter of Josiah Preston, and it was often said that if Ruth had been a boy, she, and not her husband, would have ended up as president of Preston Pharmaceuticals. But Ruth had to settle for the consolation prize when she succeeded her father as chairman of St Patrick’s Hospital Trust, a cause with which the Preston family had been associated for four generations.
Although some of the older fraternity at St Patrick’s needed to be convinced that Ruth Davenport was of the same mettle as her father, it was only weeks before they acknowledged that not only had she inherited the old man’s energy and drive, but he had also passed on to her his considerable knowledge and wisdom, so often lavished on an only child.
Ruth hadn’t married until the age of thirty-three. It certainly wasn’t for lack of suitors, many of whom went out of their way to claim undying devotion to the heir of the Preston millions. Josiah Preston hadn’t needed to explain the meaning of fortune hunters to his daughter, because the truth was that she simply hadn’t fallen in love with any of them. In fact, Ruth was beginning to doubt if she would ever fall in love. Until she met Robert.
Robert Davenport had joined Preston Pharmaceuticals from Roche via Johns Hopkins and Harvard Business School, on what Ruth’s father described as the ‘fast track’. In Ruth’s recollection, it was the nearest the old man had come to using a modern expression. Robert had been made a vice-president by the age of twenty-seven, and at thirty-three was appointed the youngest deputy chairman in the company’s history, breaking a record that had been set by Josiah himself. This time Ruth did fall in love, with a man who was neither overwhelmed nor overawed by the Preston name or the Preston millions. In fact when Ruth suggested that perhaps she should become Mrs Preston-Davenport, Robert had simply enquired, ‘When do I get to meet this Preston-Davenport fellow who hopes to prevent me from becoming your husband?’
Ruth announced she was pregnant only weeks after their wedding, and the miscarriage was almost the only blemish in an otherwise charmed existence. However, even this quickly began to look like a passing cloud in an otherwise clear blue sky, when she became pregnant again eleven months later.
Ruth had been chairing a board meeting of the Hospital Trust when the contractions began, so she only needed to take the elevator up two floors to allow Dr Greenwood to carry out the necessary check-up. However, not even his expertise, his staff’s dedication or the latest medical equipment could save the premature child. Kenneth Greenwood couldn’t help recalling how, as a young doctor, he had faced a similar problem when he had delivered Ruth, and for a week the hospital staff didn’t believe the baby girl would survive. And now the family were going through the same trauma thirty-five years later.
Dr Greenwood decided to have a private word with Mr Davenport, suggesting that perhaps the time had come for them to consider adoption. Robert reluctantly agreed, and said he would raise the subject with his wife just as soon as he felt she was strong enough.
Another year passed before Ruth agreed to visit an adoption society and with one of those coincidences that fate decides, and novelists are not allowed to consider, she became pregnant on the day she was due to visit a local children’s home. This time Robert was determined to ensure that human error would not be the reason for their child failing to enter this world.
Ruth took her husband’s advice, and resigned as chairman of the Hospital Trust. She even agreed that a full-time nurse should be employed — in Robert’s words — to keep a watchful eye on her. Mr Davenport interviewed several applicants for the post and short-listed those whom he considered held the necessary qualifications. But his final choice would be based solely on whether he was convinced the applicant was strong-willed enough to make sure that Ruth kept to her agreement to ‘take it easy’, and to insist she didn’t lapse into any old habits of wanting to organize everything she came across.
After a third round of interviews, Robert settled on a Miss Heather Nichol, who was a senior nurse on the maternity wing of St Patrick’s. He liked her no-nonsense approach and the fact that she was neither married nor graced with the kind of looks that would ensure that situation was likely to change in the foreseeable future. However, what finally tipped the balance was that Miss Nichol had already delivered over a thousand children into the world.
Robert was delighted by how quickly Miss Nichol settled into the household, and as each month slipped by, even he started to feel confident that they wouldn’t be facing the same problem a third time. When Ruth passed first five, six, and then seven months without incident, Robert even raised the subject of possible Christian names: Fletcher Andrew if it was a boy, Victoria Grace if it was a girl. Ruth expressed only one preference: that were it a boy he should be known as Andrew, but all she hoped for was to be delivered of a healthy child.
Robert was in New York attending a medical conference, when Miss Nichol called him out of a seminar to report that his wife’s contractions had begun. He assured her he would return by train immediately and then take a cab straight to St Patrick’s.
Dr Greenwood was leaving the building, having successfully delivered the Cartwright twins, when he spotted Ruth Davenport coming through the swing doors accompanied by Miss Nichol. He turned round and caught up with the two ladies before the elevator doors closed.
Once he had settled his patient into a private room, Dr Greenwood quickly assembled the finest obstetrics team the hospital could muster. Had Mrs Davenport been a normal patient, he and Miss Nichol could have delivered the child without having to call on any extra assistance. However, following an examination, he realized that Ruth would require a Caesarean section if the child was to be delivered safely. He looked towards the ceiling and sent up a silent prayer, acutely aware that this was going to be her last chance.
The delivery took just over forty minutes. At the first glimpse of the baby’s head, Miss Nichol let out a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t until the doctor cut the umbilical cord that she added ‘Alleluia’. Ruth, who was still under a general anaesthetic, was unable to see the relieved smile on Dr Greenwood’s face. He quickly left the theatre to tell the expectant father, ‘It’s a boy.’