Giving Chase (A Racing Romance) (Aspen Valley Series #2) (3 page)

‘Well, I spent a couple of years riding in point-to-points after graduating from racing school. Then I got a job as amateur for David McKenna earlier thi
s year but then he closed down—’ Frankie paused as she realised she’d lost half her audience.

Pippa was looking beyond her, a frown furrowing her forehead. Frankie swivelled round. All she could see was the young couple, Emmie and Billy, sitting
, eating their meals. Except…Frankie looked closer at Emmie. She didn’t look very comfortable. The girl suddenly gave a gasp and reached forward, pitching over her glass of juice and clutching her side with one hand.

‘Oh, God.
Emmie!’ Pippa said, jumping to her feet.

Frankie spun back around as Pippa’s chair crashed to the ground. Her eyes met Jack’s. His were wide with fear.

‘Oh, shit,’ he muttered.

At a loss as to what else to do, Frankie followed Pippa and Jack over to the neighbouring table.

‘Emmie, are you okay?’ Pippa asked. ‘Is it time?’

Emmie looked up, her face contorting with pain.

‘I think it must be.
’

‘Already?’
Billy said.

‘What do you mean “already”? I’ve been carrying this baby for nearly nine months!’

‘I mean all of a sudden like this?’

‘
I’ve been getting pains all day, but that one was a bugger,’ she muttered through clenched teeth.

T
he ashen-faced father-to-be continued to stare at Emmie, hands still clenching his knife and fork with a chunk of roast chicken still attached. Frankie sympathised.

‘Okay, no need to panic,’ Pippa said, her voice wavering. ‘Let’s get you to the hospital. Billy, is your car outside?’

Billy swallowed and dropped his knife. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

‘Yes, but um—
’

‘What, Billy?’ Jack said irritably.

‘Well, I might have had a pint or two too many…’

‘Jesus Christ!’ hissed Jack. ‘You’re over the limit, aren’t you?’

‘I didn’t think I would be driving all the way to Bristol tonight,’ Billy defended himself. ‘I thought we’d just go home afterwards…out of sight of any police.’

‘Ooooh!’
Emmie cried as another contraction took hold. Pippa squeezed her hand until it had passed.

‘That’s it,’ she soothed. She coaxed Emmie out of her chair.
‘Never mind about the car. We’ll go in mine.’

‘Your car?’
Jack said. ‘It’s not exactly the most reliable. We were taking a chance just driving it here from the yard.’

‘Well, do you have any better ideas?’

Frankie followed Jack’s gaze back to the bar. Rhys was now sitting in the company of a flamingo-legged brunette, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding behind him.

‘He’s got his motorbike helmet with him,’ Pippa said, reading his thoughts. ‘I doubt whether Emmie will go for that. We’ll have to take a chance in my car.’

‘With all due respect, Pippa, I don’t fancy breaking down halfway to Bristol and having to give birth on the side of the A37,’ Emmie said.

‘Shall we call an ambulance then?’

Emmie shook her head.

‘No time,’ she gasped.
She clutched Pippa’s shoulder for support.

‘We need someone with a car who
isn’t drunk then.’

Frankie, standing in the background, drew in her breath as all eyes turned to her. Damn.
Some induction this was turning out to be. She took an unsteady step backwards.

‘Oh no,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘But you do have a car, don’t you?’ Pippa urged.

‘Yes, but—
’

‘And you haven’t had anything to drink, have you?’ Jack took up the plea.

Frankie hesitated, taking in the four desperate faces before her. Billy still had his napkin tucked into his collar.

‘You haven’t seen my car,’ she tried one last time.

‘Does it have four wheels, a reliable engine and steering control?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Then that’s three things more than Pippa’s.’

Frankie caved, at the same time wondering how they’d managed to drive to the Golden Miller with less than four wheels.

‘Oh, dear. Okay. It’s parked outside.’

*

The party exited the Golden Miller, Pippa and Billy supporting Emmie along the pavement. The first spots of rain were riding in on the cool evening breeze. Frankie reluctantly gestured towards the red and white car parked thirty feet away.

‘There she is.’

A landslide of horror paled Jack’s face and his step faltered.

‘You drive a Mini?’

‘Come on, Jack,’ Pippa intervened, brushing past him. ‘Stop stalling.’

The Mini’s indicators flashed hello as Frankie beeped the locks open. With Pippa’s help, they managed to ease Emmie into the front passenger seat. In his haste
to get in the back, Billy smacked his head on the doorframe. He paused to rub his forehead.

‘Ow, that hurt,’ he mumbled.

‘Not as much as this fucking does!’ Emmie yelled from within. ‘Hurry up!’

Billy clambered in, followed by Pippa. Jack folded himself low and somehow managed to wedge himself into the small
remaining space on the backseat.

‘Can we go now, please?’ Emmie begged. She lent her head back and Billy comfortingly stroked her damp hair.

‘We’re off, don’t stress,’ Frankie said as calmly as she could. With trembling hands, she buckled herself in and gave Emmie a quick smile. ‘Where are we going then?’

‘Southmead Hospital,’ Billy provided.

‘Southmead?’ Jack said. ‘That’s the far side of Bristol! Why the hell didn’t you choose somewhere closer?’

‘Because Billy was born there.
Now, is there anything else you’d like to object to, Jack?’ Emmie growled.

Reversing into the High Street
, Frankie glanced at the three faces in her rearview mirror. Their shocked expressions told her Emmie wasn’t usually so forthright.

Another contraction had Emmie grimacing in pain again and her hand shot forward to slam into the dashboard. The radio flashed into life. Bonnie Tyler’s husky voice swelled inside the compacted car as
Holding Out For A Hero
boomed out of the speakers. Spinning the wheel and putting her foot down, Frankie was vaguely aware of Rhys Bradford and the brunette exiting the pub as they roared by. Their disbelieving stares followed the Mini’s full-to-capacity progress down the street.

*

‘Billy, are you timing the contractions?’ Pippa asked as they navigated the streets of Bristol in the drizzle.

‘Er, about two minutes?’

‘No, Billy. You can’t estimate like that,’ Pippa corrected him gently. ‘And they’re not as close as that—’

‘It bloody feels it!’ Emmie groaned from the front. ‘Oh God, here comes another. How far away is the hospital?’

‘Not far, not far,’ Frankie soothed. Despite the low traffic, it had still taken them a good half hour to reach the city and according to the Sat Nav, the hospital was another ten minutes away.

‘Quick! Get your watch ready, Billy,’ Pippa said as Emmie gave another groan.
‘Ready, steady, go!’

‘Pippa,’ Jack spoke up. ‘It’s not a race.’

Frankie glanced at him in her mirror. His face was briefly lit by the streetlamps rushing past. He looked stressed but a lot more composed than he had half an hour ago. He had been very quiet up until this point. Frankie conceded he was probably having difficulty breathing, folded up like a contortionist as he was, let alone talking.

‘Ooh, this is so not comfortable,’ Emmie sa
id with a grimace. ‘I need to… I need to…’

Frankie shot her
passenger a nervous look as she unbuckled her seatbelt and began to move around.

‘What? What do you need to do?’ she asked. ‘We’re nearly there. It’s okay. Come on. Just ten minutes more. What are you
doing
?’

With a lot of puffing, Emmie manoeuvred herself sideways.

‘It’ll be more comfortable if I can just…kneel down in the footwell…and face backwards,’ she said. ‘My back is killing me.’

‘Um, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.’

Emmie ignored her. In her determination, she kicked the gearstick, knocking the car out of gear and making it complain loudly. Frankie looked down at the tiny footwell, then at Emmie. Emmie wasn’t exactly huge but in comparison to the space available, she might as well have been an elephant trying to turn around in a horsebox.

‘Look, I really don’t think you sho
uld do that—’

‘There! That’s better.’ Emmie smiled weakly, now parked backwards with her elbows on the seat.

Turning into Gloucester Road, Frankie noticed Emmie barely move as they negotiated the corner. The girl was wedged. How the hell were they going to get her out?

‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked.

‘Another one’s coming.’

‘Quick, Billy!’ Pippa bounced in her seat as much as was
physically possible. ‘Where’s your watch?’

As Emmie slumped onto the seat with another groan, the others turned to Billy expectantly.

‘So? How long was that?’ Pippa prompted.

‘Well,
it’s eight forty-nine and fifty seconds…um, what time was it when you said go?’

‘Oh, Billy!’
Pippa complained, sounding like he’d just ruined a favourite game.

‘
Six minutes,’ Jack said calmly.

‘Six
minutes?’ echoed Frankie. She looked at Emmie in horror. ‘How long have you been in labour?’

Emmie grimaced.

‘I’ve been sore all day. I suppose those might have been contractions earlier. I just didn’t know since they weren’t exactly agonising. Unlike these bastards.’

Frankie put her foot down and the Mini sluiced through the wet with more urgency.

‘Didn’t you notice anything when your waters broke?’ she asked.

Emmie looked at her, nonplussed.

‘My waters haven’t broken yet. I think I would have noticed
that
.’

‘I thought your waters breaking is the first sign that you’re about to pop,’ Billy said, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around the backrest of the chair so he could see Emmie better.

‘Weren’t you listening in the antenatal classes, Billy? That only happens in Hollywood. Waters can break at any time during labour.’

Frankie tried to look subtly at Emmie’s rear end jammed against the glove box. She really did not want Emmie flooding her car. It had taken four packs of air fresheners to mask the smell when her cat Atticus Finch had thrown up beneath her seat on the way to the vets. She did not want to find out how many packs this would need.

*

Frankie’s heart st
epped up the pace when finally a sign for Southmead Hospital was illuminated by the headlights.

‘Nearly there,’ she informed Emmie.

‘About bloody time.’

She stopped the car as they reached the entrance and were met by about fifty different signs for all the hospital wards.

‘Shit. Which way do we go?’

‘Pink
—sign—’ Emmie gasped. ‘Oh God, it’s coming!’

‘I see it! I see it—
’

‘What? You can see the baby?’
Billy tried to climb over the headrest.

‘No, the pink
sign,’ Frankie replied. ‘Just—um… hold it in. Don’t push. We’re nearly there.’

The car lurched forward, making Emmie groan again. Driving as fast as she dared, Frankie peered into the darkness looking for further directions. It wasn’t looking promising. They came to a T-junction. There weren’t any more pink signs.

‘And now? Billy, does any of this look familiar?’ Frankie asked.

‘I think things might have been changed around a bit since I was born her
e. We’re talking twenty-one years ago.’

‘Fuck’s sake, Billy!’ Emmie snarled. ‘Stop being a tool. She means the last time we came here to visit!’

‘Oh! Okay, um, right, well. I don’t remember this bit. I might be wrong though. It was daytime then and things—well, things look different in the dark.’

‘Let’s back up. We might have missed something.’

‘Oh God, no more speed humps, please,’ Emmie whimpered. ‘This baby’s going to bounce out in a minute.’

With a high-pitched whine, the Mini shot backwards.

‘Look!’ Billy yelled, jabbing his finger against the window.

Peeping out from behind a bush was a discreet pink sign. Frankie spun the wheel and
put her foot down, the car almost becoming airborne as they hit another speed hump. Emmie groaned like a dying whale. Drawing up to the maternity unit car park, she read the payment instructions beside the boom and meter.

‘We have to pay by the hour. How long do you reckon we’ll be?’

‘What?’ Jack said, craning his neck to see out of the window. ‘How the hell are we supposed to know that? Just get the maximum.’

Frankie hefted her bag onto her lap and dipped into her purse for some money. She had a ten pound note and some small change. Peering at the meter, she couldn’t see any entrance for notes to be accepted.

‘It only accepts coins,’ Frankie announced. ‘I don’t have enough.’

‘Everyone
empty your pockets,’ Pippa said. ‘How much do you need?’

‘Another seven pounds and forty pence.’

There was a minute of grunting and heaving as the backseat occupants all tried to extract their wallets, digging elbows into ribs and cracking heads.