Emergency At Bayside

‘Ah, but his research has all been in trauma and resuscitation.’ Jess wagged a finger. ‘It’s all relevant—at least that’s the propaganda being fed to us from Admin. The truth is, they’re just relieved someone’s actually taken up the position; poor old Dr Campbell can hardly run the department alone. Who knows? They might have actually got it right for once and Flynn Kelsey will turn out to be the fantastic doctor that they’re promising.’

‘If he’s that good, what was he doing with his head buried in books for the last two years? Hands-on experience is more relevant,’ Meg said firmly. ‘We can all sit and read about it. Rolling your sleeves up and getting on with the job does it for me every time.’

‘So you’re not staying to welcome him?’

‘I’m sure I’ll meet him soon enough.’

‘Come on,’ Jess pushed. Meg’s red-rimmed eyes were worrying her. ‘Just for a quick coffee?’

Meg feigned a yawn. ‘Honestly, Jess, I’m exhausted. My bed sounds far more tempting right now.’ Picking up her bag, Meg slung it casually over her shoulder. ‘Bye then.’ As she got to the door Meg paused for a second. ‘Oh, Jess, I’ve left all the paperwork from Luke—the child last night—in the Unit Manager’s office. Dr Leighton needs to write up all the drugs that were given; I’ve left the list clipped to the casualty card.’

‘Sure.’

As Meg turned to go she let out a small sigh. ‘Poor kid.’ Her voice was soft, more a whisper, really, and Jess knew that the words had come out involuntarily. But Meg recovered quickly, smothering her display of emotion with another huge yawn. ‘I’m dead on my feet; I’d better get home.’

* * *

Meg wasn’t tired, not in the slightest. In fact as she drove her small car out of the car park she debated whether or not to stop at the shops and pick up some groceries, knowing that when she got to bed all she was going to do was lie there staring at the ceiling, going over and over the night’s events. But shopping was more than she could deal with this morning. Choosing between wholemeal and white, full cream or low-fat milk seemed so trivial, so irrelevant, when a child was dead.

Poor kid.

Driving along Beach Road, for a second Meg hesitated, her foot poised over the brake, wondering whether or not to stop at her parents’. Tea, toast and sympathy from her mother sounded wonderful, but, given the fact that tensions on the home front were running at an all-time high, Meg decided against the idea, instead flicking on her indicator and heading up the hill for home.

Wincing as she changed gear, Meg remembered why her hand was hurting this morning. Remembered Dr Leighton looking over to the flat line on the monitor.

‘We’ve been going for forty-five minutes with no response. I think we should call it. Does anyone have any objections?’

The ampoule of adrenaline Meg had been holding in her hand had shattered then, but she hadn’t let on. ‘Perhaps we should keep going while I talk to his parents. It might help them to come in and see us still working on him.’ Throwing the shattered ampoule into the sharps bin, Meg had wiped her hand and applied a plaster to the small deep cut, then taken a deep steadying breath before heading for the interview room and walking in and delivering the shattering news. The look of utter desolation on Luke’s parents’ faces as she’d gently broken the news, then walked them the short distance to resus, had stayed with her throughout the night. The utter grief as they had done what no parent should ever have to.

Said goodbye to their child.

Up the winding hill she drove, the stunning view of the bay that filled her car window doing nothing to soothe her. Instead the conversation she had had with Luke’s parents replayed in her mind so clearly that it might just as well have been coming from the car’s stereo.

Meg had driven this road hundreds, maybe thousands of times. She knew every last bend in it, knew the subtle gear changes that ensured a smooth ride home. But this morning the painful image of Luke and his mother that flashed into her mind, the tears that sprang from her eyes, the sob that escaped from her lips, were all it took to make her lose her concentration. And in that tiny second the bend she had taken so easily, so many times, suddenly loomed towards her. With a start of horror Meg realised she had taken it too fast. Before she could even slam on her brakes the car shot off the road. There was no time to attempt to gain control, no time for anything—just a panicked helplessness as she heard someone yelling out, heard the slam of metal, the pop of glass as it shattered around her.

An ear-splitting shriek seemed to be going on for ever. It reminded her of Luke’s mother. Only when the car somersaulted and she felt the impact of the wheel thudding into her chest did the screaming stop, and in a moment of clarity before she lost consciousness Meg realised that the person who had been screaming was her.

CHAPTER TWO

‘IT’S all right Meg. We’re going to get you out of there just as soon as we can.’ The familiar voice of Ken Holmes, one of the paramedics Meg knew from her time in Emergency, was the first that welcomed her back to the world.

Everything was familiar: the hard collar holding her neck in position, the probe attached to her ear measuring her oxygen saturation. Meg had been out to many motor vehicle accidents with the Mobile Accident Unit and she knew the routine, knew all the equipment that was being used down to the last detail. But the familiarity brought no comfort. None at all.

The morning sun shone painfully into her eyes, and only then did Meg begin to realise the precariousness of her situation. Her car, or what was left of it, was embedded into the trunk of a huge tree. Its ominous creaking, Meg knew, was a sign of its instability. She sat there angled backwards, watching a massive chain slowly tightening around the trunk, and felt a huge jolt as the chain took up the last piece of slack. Every bone in her body seemed to be aching, her tongue felt swollen and sore, and she could taste blood at the back of her throat.

‘How much longer until we can free her?’ A deep voice from behind her left ear was calling out.

A deep voice that most definitely wasn’t familiar.

It was the first time Meg had realised someone was actually in the car with her.

‘They’re still trying to secure the tree. More equipment’s on the way.’ Ken’s voice was calm and even, but Meg could hear the undercurrent of urgency.

‘How long?’ She heard the edge of impatience in the deep voice and the hesitancy in Ken’s before he answered.

‘Twenty minutes—half an hour at most.’

‘I want to get another IV line into her and check her injuries. Ken, you come and hold her head. I’ll get into the front beside her.’

‘Do you want to wait for the rest of the equipment before you move?’ Again an ominous note was evident in Ken’s voice.

‘No. Do you?’ There was no scorn in the strange voice, no impatience now, and if Meg hadn’t quite grasped the danger she was in, hearing Ken being given a choice served to ram home just how vulnerable her situation was.

But Ken didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’ll come in round the other side.’

‘Good man.’

Her fuddled mind fought to recognise the masculine voice that was calmly giving out orders as Ken moved into the back and took over holding her head, while her unknown companion climbed over the passenger seat and into what was left of the seat beside her. It took for ever; every tiny movement seemed to ricochet through her body. Unable to move, all Meg could do was listen: listen to his heavy breathing and the occasional curse as a branch or piece of mangled metal halted his progress.

‘It’s Meg, isn’t it?’

She tried to nod, but the hard collar didn’t allow for movement. Opening her mouth a fraction, Meg tried to talk. But her mouth simply wouldn’t obey her. He seemed to recognise her distress in an instant. ‘It’s okay. Don’t try to talk. My name is Flynn Kelsey. I’m a doctor, and I’m just going to put a needle into your hand so we can give you some more fluids before we move you out.’

He was talking in layman’s terms and Meg realised he didn’t know that she was a nurse. He probably assumed the paramedics had got her name from her driver’s licence or a numberplate check. It was funny how her mind seemed to be focussing on the tiniest, most irrelevant details. Funny how her mind simply wouldn’t allow her to take in the horror of her own situation, trapped and helpless in her precariously positioned car.

Through terrified eyes she watched Flynn Kelsey as he set to work. He was a big man, and the small area that had been cut away was fairly restrictive, but he didn’t seem bothered by the confined space. The only concession he made was to take off the hard orange hat he was wearing before he set to work quietly. She searched his face, taking in his grey eyes, the high, chiselled cheekbones, the straight black hair neatly cut. Though he was clean shaven, she could see the dusting of new growth on his strong jaw.

Occasionally he would shift out of focus, her immobilised head making it impossible for her to follow him, but through it all Meg felt him beside her. Felt the steadying presence of his touch, the gentle reassurance of his regular breathing. Shifting into view again, for a second his cool grey eyes caught her petrified ones and he gave her a reassuring smile. Only the appearance of another flask of fluid indicated to Meg that the IV bung was already in; a scratch in the back of her hand was small fry compared to the agony everywhere else.

‘We’re going to be here for a little while yet.’

‘Why can’t they get me out now?’ It was the first time she had spoken and her voice was husky and strained, no more than a whisper, really, and Flynn had to move his head closer to catch her words.

‘Once the car’s a bit more secure we can get you out.’

Which didn’t answer the question. His careful evasion only scared Meg more.

Watching her closely, Flynn registered her deep intake of breath, saw her eyes screw tightly shut.

He recognised her terror.

‘You’re a lady that likes the truth, huh?’ He paused for a moment before continuing, ‘Your car came off the road at Elbow’s Bend—do you know it?’ Meg did know it; she knew it only too well. The sharp bend of road, cut into the rocks, was a favourite lookout point, and, if her memory served her correctly, the only view was that of the bay a hundred metres below. ‘Luckily a couple of trees broke your fall, and we’re on a nice sturdy ledge which has given us all a bit of room to work.’

She could hear her teeth involuntarily chattering as Flynn continued talking in quiet calm tones. ‘The trees are holding the car and the firefighters have secured us; we’re fine for now, but until the rest of the equipment arrives it’s probably safer not to try moving you.’

He didn’t add just how tenuous her position had been before the emergency services had arrived— didn’t casually throw in how both he and Ken had literally put their lives on the line by climbing into the car to be with her.

He didn’t have to; Meg had been out to enough accidents to know the score.