Emergency At Inglewood

‘Oh-h.’ Kathryn rolled her eyes at her obvious omission. ‘There’s supplies of everything in the resuscitation kit.’

‘Good.’ Tim touched the large, tackle-type box with his foot. ‘We’ll go over the kit later. Are you familiar with this type of life pack?’

Kathryn nodded. ‘That’s what we’ve been using for training.’

‘You’re qualified to defibrillate manually, aren’t you?’

Her nod was a lot slower this time. ‘I haven’t done it for real yet. Only on dummies.’

Tim’s smile was quick. ‘We’ll try and make sure your first arrest patient isn’t too bright, then.’

Kathryn laughed but was disconcerted at the way Tim’s gaze veered instantly away from her face. A slightly awkward silence fell, which added to Kathryn’s confusion. This was like a roller-coaster. Whenever she felt that Tim was being friendly and they were establishing some kind of rapport, it got flicked off like a switch and that inexplicable tension was back again. Had she done the wrong thing by laughing at his joke? Why had he made one if she wasn’t supposed to find it funny?

Recognising that she was doing something wrong was a skill Kathryn was expert in, however. She cleared her throat.

‘It must be a pain, having to work with someone like me.’

‘What?’ Tim snapped the battery he was checking back into its slot in the life pack.

‘I mean, I must seem a bit of a liability when you’re used to working with someone as qualified as your last partner. Laura, was it?’

Tim nodded. ‘Laura Green. Now Laura Halliday.’

‘Halliday? Wasn’t that the name of one of the firemen?’

Tim nodded again. ‘Jason. He and Laura got married a few months ago. She’s taking maternity leave now.’

‘Oh.’ Kathryn knew her smile was probably wistful. ‘That’s nice.’

‘Yeah.’ Tim clipped the safety belt that held the life pack in position. ‘She thinks so.’ He looked directly at Kathryn. ‘I hope I’m not giving the impression that I’m not happy to work with you. It’s actually a bit of a treat, getting a probationary officer with your qualifications. I was expecting somebody as green as grass, which can make life a bit difficult for a while.’

‘I’m still green,’ Kathryn warned. ‘As I said, it’s been years since I worked in Emergency and all the pre-hospital emergency medicine I’ve learned over the last few months is still just theory.’

‘You’ve done third crewing, though, haven’t you?’

‘It’s not the same when you’ve got people walking you through stuff. It’s a big step being out on the road as a qualified officer.’

‘You’ll learn soon enough,’ Tim assured her. His eyebrows rose as their pagers sounded simultaneously. ‘Perhaps even sooner than I thought. All set?’

‘As long as I don’t have to defibrillate someone on my first job.’ Kathryn’s smile was rather shaky as she climbed up into the passenger seat of the ambulance. Any concerns over the difficulty she was having breaking the ice with Tim fled into the same space Sean was now occupying.

Her pager informed her that this job was a P1 and it was already as nerve-racking as she had feared.

The switch to change the wail of the siren to a shorter yelp for additional warning at intersections was just above Tim’s head. He left it on yelp and added a blast on the air horn for good measure when a courier van driver decided he could scoot past the other traffic already slowing obediently to give the emergency vehicle right of way. The driver’s non-verbal sign that he wasn’t impressed with being reprimanded drew a disgusted snort from Tim and a squeak from his new partner.

‘Can you believe that guy?’

‘Believe anything if it’s a courier van,’ Tim growled. ‘Or a taxi. Or one of those little granny wagon boxes on wheels.’ He could see Kathryn’s hand shaking slightly as she tried to find the address they’d been given on the map. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said shortly. ‘I know where it is.’

His mood slipped another notch or two as he heard his tone. He should be giving Kathryn some encouragement, not making her feel as though he couldn’t be bothered with any incompetence. This was her first day on the job, for heaven’s sake, and as far as potential partners went he had probably scooped the pick of the latest intake. It would be nice to blame his uncharacteristic ill humour on the idiocy of courier van drivers but, sadly, Tim knew that he had been thrown off his usual even keel well before that.

About the time Kathryn Mercer had walked into the garage at Inglewood station this morning, in fact.

He must have looked like more of an idiot than a courier van driver with his mouth hanging open, but seeing Kathryn had been a shock to say the least. She was supposed to be firmly in the realms of fantasy now. Locked away like an attractive movie star. Perfect but totally unattainable. She wasn’t supposed to walk into his life like that. How the hell could he be expected to work with someone he shouldn’t have been thinking about in the kind of terms he had been?

Tim accelerated hard as he took a bend into a straight stretch of the main road leading to the Hutt Valley. Weaving in and out of the traffic didn’t allow him time for more than a split-second glance at Kathryn but it was enough to absorb the impression of a white face and fingernails buried in the unforgiving upholstery of her seat. She was being thrown in the deep end here and Tim didn’t like the tiny flash of satisfaction it gave him.

He was in control again and it felt like the first time since the sight of her diminutive figure in its smart new uniform had assaulted his senses. He had been the one out of his depth then, and he had really thought he’d been drowning when she’d said she’d been disappointed he hadn’t kept his promise to ring her.

It should have been easy to lie and say the number scribbled on that empty syringe packet had been mislaid, or that they just got incredibly busy and he had forgotten. But he hadn’t forgotten, had he? That moment of panic when he’d thought he’d lost the damn packet, the relief with which he’d fished it out of his pocket, and then the crushing disappointment as Laura had pointed out that both Kathryn and her dinner partner had been wearing wedding rings were burned into his memory with astonishing clarity.

The woman of his dreams, he’d confessed to Laura. And he’d been too late. Someone had got there first and claimed the kind of commitment that was sacrosanct as far as Tim was concerned. He should have been able to put any attraction in the rubbish along with that phone number, but that had proved impossible. As impossible as sounding casual enough to make a lie convincing.

It might have been OK if he’d had a little warning, but the change in Laura’s replacement had only been decided that morning and Kathryn had arrived before he’d had time to collect any messages. He had still been trying to come to terms with the fact that he would be working closely with Kathryn for the next six months when she’d reminded him of precisely why that was going to be so awkward.

Tim pushed his foot down on the brake and Kathryn shot forward into the clutch of her safety belt.

‘This is Rawlston Street. What number do we want?’

Kathryn sat back and fumbled for her pager.

‘You should write that information on the case report form as soon as we get a call,’ Tim told her. ‘You can’t afford to waste any time if it’s an emergency response.’

‘Sorry.’ Kathryn was pushing the button on her pager. ‘It’s number 257 and it says ‘‘Fresh’’.’

‘Fresh Is Best. It’s a supermarket up the end of the road.’ Tim turned off the siren but left the beacons flashing as he slowed the ambulance. ‘It’s a chest pain,’ he reminded Kathryn, ‘so we’ll take everything. Throw the life pack onto the stretcher along with the oxygen and suction kit. I’ll get the kit. Let’s move.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_f0f6346b-4656-5c32-92cb-686598f0a39d)

ANXIOUS-LOOKING people wearing hats and white aprons over striped uniforms were waiting. Tim jumped out from the driver’s seat and strode to the back to open the doors. Kathryn stayed inside the vehicle, sliding between the front seats into the back and struggling to unclip the safety belt on the life pack quickly. She could hear snatches of the information Tim was being given.

‘Lifting sacks of flour. They’re as heavy as…’

‘Looks awful. All grey and sweaty…’

‘Fifty-six. Never had a sick day in his…’

By the time Kathryn had the life pack on top of the stretcher, Tim had added all the other equipment they needed, unhooked the end of the stretcher and was pulling it free. Kathryn made a lunge to catch the handle on her end so it wouldn’t crash down the steps. Then she had to trot to keep up.

Their patient did look awful. The middle-aged man was slumped against a wall near the massive ovens in the supermarket bakery.

‘Get some oxygen on him,’ Tim instructed Kathryn. ‘Fifteen litres a minute with a non-rebreather mask.’

An easy enough task. Kathryn unzipped the pouch attached to the portable oxygen cylinder and ripped open a plastic bag containing a mask, only to find it was a standard acute mask. She reached into the bag again and this time found the one with the reservoir bag attached. She hooked it up to the cylinder and remembered to keep her finger over the hole at the base of the mask until the reservoir bag was full.

Tim had cut away the apron and uniform shirt of the man and was attaching the sticky electrodes on the ends of the life-pack leads.

‘Have you got any history of heart problems?’