High-Altitude Doctor

Her fingers tightened in the tiny crack and her toes felt numb.

She was going to let go.

‘You’re not going to fall and even if you do, I’ll catch you because we’re roped together.’ Her brother’s voice was impatient. ‘Look up, not down. Concentrate. Feel the rock. Go for it, Jules, you can do it! You’re my sister!’

A moment of delicious pride mingled with the panic.

She didn’t want to go for it. She just wanted to curl up in a ball away from risk, but she’d discovered that the biggest high on earth was her older brother’s approval. And she couldn’t fall because to fall would be to fail and no one in her family ever failed at anything.

Everyone in her family was bold and fearless and kicked against the life-throttling ropes of convention. And she was going to be the same.

So she closed her eyes and tried to forget the drop beneath her.

She tried to forget that climbing terrified her. She tried to forget that heights made her stomach roll.

And she climbed.

Upwards, towards her brother’s approving smile. Her brother always smiled. And he was still smiling when he lost his footing moments later and plunged headlong down the sheer rockface, dragging her with him into a dark, dark void of terror and death.

CHAPTER THREE

JULIET woke in a sweat, her breathing rapid and her pulse thundering, a sick feeling deep in the pit of her stomach.

Darkness still engulfed the room and she had a frantic need to turn on the light, to remove the feeling of menace that pressed down on her. But the other occupants of the room were still sleeping and she knew she couldn’t make a sound. To do so would be to attract attention and she didn’t want attention. She needed privacy to compose herself and drag her mind back into a comfortable place.

So instead she sat upright on her bunk and hooked her arms around her knees, trying to breathe slowly and think boring daytime thoughts. Trying to push away the lingering tentacles of the nightmare. But even in her state of full wakefulness, the images lingered, frighteningly vivid and all too real.

Why now, when she hadn’t had the dream for years?

Why tonight?

Her mouth was dry and she reached for her water bottle and drank deeply.

She knew why, of course. She knew exactly why.

The memory would fade, she reminded herself as she replaced the top on her water bottle and lay down on her bunk, knowing that she wouldn’t sleep again that night.

She didn’t dare, in case the dream came back again.

So she lay in the dark, listening to the rhythmic breathing of the others in the room and fighting off the demons of her past.

Despite her fears, Juliet dozed off only to wake again at six, freezing cold and with a thumping headache.

Stress or the first signs of altitude sickness?

She tugged on extra layers and carefully packed her duffel bag ready for the Sherpas to add to their load. Then she joined the others for breakfast, hoping they were in better shape than her.

They were eating omelette and fried bread and instantly she could see that both Gary and Simon looked the worse for wear, although the two girls seemed quite lively.

‘How was your night?’ She addressed the two men without any great confidence that they’d tell her the truth. She’d already decided that she was going to have to find a way of breaking down those macho barriers so that she could gain a real picture of their physical state.

She made a mental note to talk to each of the young men separately, hoping that without peer pressure they might be prepared to open up.

They lingered over breakfast and were just packing up to leave when one of their Sherpas came running along the path towards them.

‘Dr Juliet, you need to come. Cook has accident.’

Juliet grabbed the pack that contained a basic first-aid kit and followed him without question, wondering what had happened.

Despite the availability of accommodation, the Sherpas preferred to set up their own tent and one of them had managed to cut himself badly while preparing breakfast.

He was sitting on a boulder, blood pouring from his finger, a horrified expression on his face.

‘I need some water, Pemba,’ Juliet instructed quickly, delving into her pack and dragging out her first-aid kit. She cleaned the wound so that she could get a better look at what was going on and decided that it wasn’t going to need stitches.

‘Wound very deep,’ Pemba said sorrowfully, and Juliet gave him a reassuring smile.

‘It’s not that deep, Pemba. I’ll give it a proper clean and put some steristrips on it.’

‘Stitches?’

‘Paper stitches,’ Juliet amended, but he nodded with satisfaction and she decided it really didn’t matter whether he thought they were proper stitches or not. The finger would be treated and that was what counted.

As expedition doctor she was responsible for the health of the Sherpas as well as the Western climbers and trekkers, and she took that responsibility very seriously indeed. In her opinion they were all entitled to the same care. In truth, the injury was minor, but she didn’t want them to think that they were less important to her so she gave the injury more attention than she otherwise might have done.

Once the finger was securely dressed she rose to her feet and swung her pack onto her back.

‘It should be fine, but if it gives you a problem, let me know.’

The injured Sherpa gazed at his neatly bandaged finger with pride and Juliet hid a smile.

He was like a child, seeking attention.

She rejoined her party at the teahouse and finally they set off, following the trail that would lead them to the next village.

Neil led and Juliet stayed at the back, intending to sweep up any stragglers and hoping for some peace and quiet to sort out her pounding headache.

She was out of luck.

‘Good morning, Dr Adams.’ It was Finn McEwan, looking rested and relaxed and disturbingly handsome. Dark stubble covered his jaw and he’d stripped down to a T-shirt, exposing broad shoulders and hard muscle. He looked strong and fit and more than capable of tackling the word’s highest mountain.

In comparison she felt tired and weak and every step was a monumental effort.

She stood to one side to let him pass. ‘I expect you want to get going,’ she said politely, ‘so feel free to overtake.’

His eyes rested on her face. ‘You’re looking pale, Dr Adams. Bad night?’

She tensed, remembering the nightmares. And the cause of them. ‘I slept fine,’ she lied. ‘How about you?’