In Dr Darling's Care

‘But…’ Emily had been staring at the two of them as if they’d gone mad. ‘This is crazy. You’ve forgotten. Harry can’t go on any plane.’

‘He must,’ Lizzie said gently. ‘This leg needs to be fixed. It needs pins to be inserted. Harry needs a skilled orthopaedic surgeon and highly specific equipment. Until Harry has the operation, he can’t weight-bear, and the splinters of bone are a real danger to his blood supply. He knows that. Don’t you, Harry?’

Harry laid the films down on the coverlet. ‘Yes,’ he said. And sighed. ‘I do.’ He sighed again.

Something wasn’t right.

Lizzie stared down at him. He stared straight back and her initial impression intensified. Was it possible? She must be imagining it, she told herself, but for just a moment she thought she’d detected a note of real relief in his voice. And…the faintest trace of laughter?

She must have been imagining it. There was no such relief in Emily’s tone—or in her expression. The woman faced Lizzie with desperation, and her face was more shocked than Harry’s.

‘If he can’t weight-bear… That just means traction. You can do it here and he’ll just have to use a wheelchair. We can do that.’

But Lizzie was shaking her head. ‘Traction can’t guarantee Harry the same results as pinning,’ she told her. ‘You don’t want Harry to end up with one leg longer than the other.’ Then, as Emily’s face said she wasn’t so sure, Lizzie pressed on.

‘Emily, look again at that film,’ she said gently. ‘When Harry was first injured the blood supply was completely blocked. I was lucky enough to get the leg into a position where the blood vessels are operating but I don’t know how permanent that is. The X-rays are telling me there are loose splinters of bone that could block the blood supply again. He has to be operated on and that need is urgent. I don’t have an anaesthetist and I don’t have the equipment, even if I was trained to do this sort of operation. Which I’m not. I’m sorry, Emily, but there is no choice.’

‘There must be.’

‘There isn’t.’

‘Harry, make her see…’ There were tears rolling down the woman’s face. Good grief, Lizzie thought. She was verging on the hysterical.

It was only a wedding.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry was there before her. His hand came out and caught his fiancée’s, gripping it tight. ‘No, Em. It’s you who has to see. Dr Darling’s right. I need to go to Melbourne. We need to postpone the wedding.’

‘If you give us a list of guests, May and I will sit down tonight and contact them,’ Lizzie told them. ‘May’s already offered. She tells me the hospital is quiet. Only five patients.’

‘I’ll need to go through patient lists before I go,’ Harry said sharply, and Lizzie thought, Gee, he sounds more worried about his patients than he does about his wedding.

Maybe he was. Weddings weren’t her cup of tea either.

‘May’s shown me the ward sheets. There’s nothing I can’t deal with.’

‘Unless Phoebe goes into labour,’ Harry told her, and Lizzie found herself smiling at the man. He was grinning up at her—a faint half-grin, but magnetic for all that.

He did have the most wonderful smile…

‘I already checked to see if there was a vet in town before I took this job,’ she told him, fascinated, and even more fascinated as his eyes crinkled into laughter.

‘You mean you checked the vet situation but you didn’t check the medical scene?’

‘I checked what was important. Though if I’d known the town had only one suicidal doctor…’ She gasped and caught herself. What was she doing, giving him cheek? Laughing with him? She should be checking his sedation and wishing him a safe journey.

She should be moving right on.

‘Is there anything you need before I go?’ she asked stiffly, and his smile died. Beside him, Emily was standing ashen with shock, and he gave her a worried look.

‘Something for Em?’

‘A sedative?’

‘She’s been looking forward to this wedding for a long time.’

She’s been looking forward to this wedding? Nothing about him, she noticed.

But that could wait. It wasn’t her business.

‘Will you go with Harry?’ she asked, and the other woman turned to her with blind eyes.

‘Of course I’ll go with Harry. And I don’t need anything. I don’t need a sedative.’ But her voice was wobbling dangerously.

‘Can I ring your parents? Someone to help you?’

‘Every single one of Em’s relatives has been in town for over a week,’ Harry said ruefully. ‘But they’ll be no support at all.’ His grip on Emily’s hand tightened and his voice became urgent. ‘Em, you need to stay here. Lizzie’s going to need help.’

‘I’m coming with you. Dr Darling can cope by herself. She got us into this mess. My mother can cope with wedding things. She can set another date…’

‘Leave setting the date for a while,’ Lizzie told her. She put a hand on Emily’s shoulder and looked sideways at Harry. She didn’t understand what was going on here. There were very interesting undertones… ‘Let me call your mother now,’ she offered. ‘I’ll give you something to help settle you for the trip. You’ve had a shock as well as Harry and you need to be kind to yourself. But meanwhile you need to pack, for yourself and for Harry. The plane will be here very soon.’

Emily cast her a look that was more than desperate. ‘I don’t need any sedative,’ she snapped. ‘Of course I don’t. Don’t be stupid. I’ll pack. I’ll talk to my mother.’ She shook her head as if casting off a nightmare. ‘I’ll do it now.’

She cast one despairing glance at Harry. ‘If you’re sure…’

‘We’re sure, Em,’ Harry said gently, and Em gave a last angry gasp.

‘Fine, then. I’ll pack.’

And she left Lizzie and Harry alone.

‘I’m sorry.’ With Em gone, Lizzie lifted the chart at the end of the bed and started writing. There’d be a doctor on the air ambulance, and the medical team in Melbourne would need to know what she’d done.

‘Don’t be sorry.’ Harry looked remarkably cheerful for someone who was in pain, who’d almost lost his leg and who’d just missed out on his wedding. ‘It was more Em’s wedding than mine anyway.’

‘You only need to put it back a week or so. If the leg can be pinned you’ll be weight-bearing in no time.’

‘I’m not getting married until I can put my dinner suit on. That’ll be weeks.’

‘May says the ambulance service will bring you back as soon as the orthopods let you go.’ She’d perched on the seat Em had vacated and she wrote up the drug sheet. ‘That should be no more than a few days.’

‘You’ll stay on?’

‘I shouldn’t,’ she said bitterly, setting down her pen and gazing at him with resignation. ‘I’ve been tricked into coming here.’

‘Not by me. And you hit me.’

‘You ran into my car.’