Even at the hospital Peter flapped around uselessly like a mother hen.

“Can I get you anything? A hot towel?”

“I’m fine.”

“Water?”

“No thanks.”

“Crushed ice cubes?”

“Peter…”

“What about that meditation music you’re always playing? That’s calming, right? I could run to the car and get the tape?”

Alex laughed. She was astonishingly calm.

“I think you need it more than I do. Honestly, darling, you must try to relax. I’m having a baby. Women do this every day. I’ll be fine.”

I’ll be fine.

The first problems began about an hour later. The midwife frowned at one of the monitors. Its green line had begun rising in sudden, jagged leaps.

“Stand back please, Dr. Templeton.”

Peter searched the woman’s face for clues, like a nervous airline passenger watching the flight attendant during turbulence…if she was still smiling and handing out gin-and-tonics, no one was gonna die, right? But Nurse Matthews would have made a first-class poker player. As she moved surely and confidently around the room, a professional smile of reassurance for Alex, a brusque nod of command to an orderly-fetch Dr. Farrar immediately-her doughlike features gave nothing away.

“What is it? What’s the problem?”

Peter struggled to keep the panic out of his voice, for Alex’s sake. Her own mother had died giving birth to her and Eve, a snippet of Blackwell family history that had always terrified Peter. He loved Alexandra so much. If anything should happen to her…

“Your wife’s blood pressure is somewhat elevated, Dr. Templeton. There’s no need for alarm at this stage. I’ve asked Dr. Farrar to come and assess the situation.”

For the first time, Alexandra’s face clouded with anxiety.