Emergency At Bayside

‘You’re going to be okay.’

‘Stay,’ she croaked, her eyes still screwed tightly shut.

‘Oh, I’m not going anywhere; you’re stuck with me for a good while yet. Do you know where you are?’

It seemed a silly question, especially given what he had just told her, but Meg knew he was testing her neurological status. ‘In my car.’ Her voice sounded gravelly, shaky. ‘Or what’s left of it.’

‘That’s right.’ He squeezed her hand as she started to cry. ‘But it’s only a car; you’re what’s important here. Do you remember what happened? Can you remember what caused the accident?’ He watched the tears squeezing out of her closed eyes and, realising he was distressing her further, decided instead to try a different tack. ‘We’ll go through it all later, at the hospital. Let’s talk about nicer things. Tell me about yourself, Meg.’

She tried to shake her head, but the collar and Ken held it still. ‘I’m tired.’

‘Come on, Meg. If I’m going to stay with you, the least you can do is talk to me.’ His voice was sharp, forcing her out of her slumber. ‘Have you got a husband? A boyfriend? Tell me about him?’

‘We broke up.’

‘Ouch.’ He gave a low laugh. ‘Trust me to say the wrong thing.’

Her eyes opened a fraction, wincing at the bright morning sun glimpsed through the broken tree. Golden-brown eyes, he noticed, almost amber in the bright sunlight, thick black eyelashes framing them, glistening with a new batch of tears. She turned her amber headlights to him. ‘He was cheating.’

That was a simple way of putting it, but she was too tired and it was all just too damn complicated to explain.

‘Then he’s a fool.’ Flynn said decisively. ‘Forget him.’

‘That’s what I’m working on.’

Flynn laughed. He was shining a pupil torch in her eyes now. ‘I meant while you’re stuck here. Think of something you really like. I’m not suggesting anything this time; I’d probably just put my foot in it again. What cheers you up?’

She didn’t answer; frankly she couldn’t be bothered. Closing her eyes, Meg wished he would just go away, leave her alone to rest a while.

‘Meg!’

Reluctantly she opened her eyes. ‘I’m tired.’

‘And I’m bored. Come on, Meg—talk to me. If I’ve got to sit here with you, the very least you can do is entertain me.’

‘The beach.’ Running her tongue over her dry bloodstained lips, Meg cleared her throat as best she could. ‘I like going to the beach.’

‘Do you live near it?’

‘Not really.’ She was really tired now, her eyelids growing heavy again, the need to sleep overwhelming.

‘A bit too expensive, isn’t it? Come on, Meg, stay awake. Stay with me here and tell me about the beach.’

‘Mum and Dad…’

‘Do they live near the beach?’

‘On the beach,’ she corrected

‘And I bet you’re round there more often than not?’

She actually managed a small laugh. ‘Mum says I use the hotel…’ No, that wasn’t right. Everything was coming out muddled. Meg forced herself to concentrate. ‘I use the house like…’ She never finished her sentence, her eyes gently closing as she gave up trying to explain.

‘Like a hotel?’ The torch was blasting back in her eyes now. ‘I bet you do. So, come on, what do when you go to the beach? Body surf? Water ski?’ There was a tinge of urgency creeping into his voice. ‘Open your eyes and tell me what you do at the beach, Meg!’

The sun was shining brightly when she did, warm and delicious. The same sun that warmed her when she sunbathed, the same birds chirping, the same lazy, hazy feeling as she stretched out on a towel and drifted off. Closing her eyes, feeling its warmth, she could almost hear the ocean, almost imagine she was lying on the soft sand, listening to the children patting sandcastles into shape. The hum of the firefighters’ drill was almost a perfect Jet Ski in the distance…

‘Meg!’ It was him again, breaking into her dream, utterly refusing to leave her be. ‘What do you do at the beach?’

‘I sleep.’

She heard him half-laugh, half-curse. ‘She’s practically hypnotised herself here, Ken. Tell them to step on it.’

Whether it was Flynn’s insistence or whether the tree was finally secured Meg didn’t know, but suddenly the ‘jaws of life’ were peeling the roof off her car as easily as the foil top on a yoghurt carton. The noise was deafening, the movement terrifying, but through it all Flynn was beside her, holding her hand, soothing her with his presence, until finally a firefighter appeared above them, giving the thumbs-up sign. For the last hour all Meg had wished for was to be free from the mangled wreckage, but now the moment was here suddenly she was scared again.

Bracing herself for movement, she gripped Flynn’s hand tighter. ‘It’s going to hurt.’

‘You’re going to be fine. Once you’re in the ambulance, and I’ve checked you over, I’ll give you something for pain.’

‘Promise?’

He gave her a smile. ‘Trust me.’ He was easing his fingers out of her grip. ‘I’m just going around to your other side so I can support your head as they bring you out. I’ll speak to you again in the ambulance.’

And with that she had to be content.

He held her head as they skilfully lifted her, taking charge from the top as they started the slow, painstaking ascent back to the road, relaying his orders in clear, direct tones, carefully ensuring that her neck never moved out of alignment, assuming at all times the worst-case scenario: until an X-ray showed no fracture of her neck it was safer to assume that she had one. And though Meg had never been more scared in her life, never been in more pain, amazingly she felt safe, knew that she was in good hands— literally.

Strong hands gently lowered her onto the cool crisp sheets on the stretcher, and she felt the bumps as they wheeled her to the awaiting ambulance. Fragments of the conversations between the police and the firefighters reached her as they jolted along.

‘…no skid marks…’

‘…the witness said she just veered straight off.’

‘…just finished a night shift…’

It was the type of conversation Meg heard nearly every working day, the tiny pieces of a jigsaw that would painstakingly be put together, adding up the chain of events that had led to an accident. Only this time it was about her.

As they lifted her into the ambulance and secured the stretcher she ran a tongue over her dry bloodstained lips.

‘Where’s Flynn?’

Ken patted her arm. ‘He’ll be here in a moment.’

‘He said he’d be here.’ Suddenly it seemed imperative that she see Flynn and tell him what had happened.

‘Just give him a moment, Meg, he’s had a rough morning.’ Ken’s words made no sense. She was the patient, after all, and the way Ken was talking it sounded as if Flynn was the one who was upset.

‘What’s she moaning about now?’ It was Flynn again, a touch paler and a bit grey-looking, but with the same easy smile and a slight wink as he teased her.