A Baby for the Flying Doctor (8 page)

Gil shook his head. ‘After this conference ends, I officially have one week’s leave to do with as I see fit. Phemie, here, works for the Royal Flying Doctor Service. I’m going to spend a week in the outback with her.’

‘You want to go to the outback instead of the beach?’

‘Correct.’

‘The rest of the team don’t have to—?’

‘No. You all have the right to choose what it is you want to do for that last week.’

‘And you want to go to the outback?’ William looked at Gil as though he’d grown an extra head.

Phemie felt as though she were at a ping-pong match. The two men were clearly friends but it was also clear that William didn’t like being kept out of the loop, especially when it pertained to his boss.

She looked straight ahead.
Green lights. Please?

‘Phemie’s going to try and pull some strings to see if I can return to the RFDS base with her instead of heading up to see the tropical coast.’

William pursed his lips for a moment before opening the folder that was on his lap. He took out a pen and made a notation. ‘Dr Grainger, I’ll be needing your cellphone number and a contact for the RFDS base.’

Phemie turned and looked at William, shaking her head in confusion. ‘No. Um…this is all a bit premature. I haven’t even spoken to my boss yet. Nothing is set in stone.’ She was really starting to feel pressured and she didn’t like it one bit. She liked things neat and organised and all hospital corners. Not higgledypiggledy like this. If Gil wanted to come and see where she worked, she would talk to her boss but she wasn’t going to be pushed around, having people making her life miserable.

‘Which is why I need your contact details. So we can liaise and iron out travel plans,’ William pointed out, pen poised.

Phemie looked at Gil and he could see she wasn’t going to play ball—at least not William’s way.

‘Back off for the moment, William,’ he remarked.

‘Gil.’ Phemie spoke clearly. ‘I’ll speak to my boss tonight and see what I can do. I need to find out if you can legally come and help but there will be a lot of red tape to get through. As I’ve already mentioned, I’m not sure I can promise anything. I’ll let you know—both of you.’ She turned to look at William, making sure he knew he wasn’t being kept out of any loop. ‘As soon as I have news. But until then this topic is off limits. I have to present a paper at the conference on Monday and I don’t need any other interruptions. Understood?’

Gil could see the strain on her face and nodded. ‘Understood, Phemie.’

She relaxed a little and was pleased when the car slowed down, hoping they’d finally arrived at the hotel. When she looked
out the front windscreen it was to discover they were standing still in the middle of traffic. So much for green lights all the way.

‘Problem?’ Gil asked the chauffeur.

‘Not sure, sir. Just a moment, I’ll check to see if I can find out what the problem might be.’

‘I hope it’s not an accident,’ William murmured as the chauffeur made a phone call. ‘We’re delayed enough as it is.’

‘Sydney always has traffic jams.’ Phemie tried not to shift around in her seat. She couldn’t see much out the front window and moving to try and catch a glimpse of what might indeed be holding them up was only causing her to brush up even more against Gil.

‘Good heavens,’ Gil muttered, then, before she was aware of what he was doing, he’d unbuckled his seat belt and was opening his door.’

‘Gil?’ she called.

‘What are you—? No don’t,’ William protested. ‘Stay in the car. Gilbert?’ But it was no use. The professor had disappeared. The chauffeur in the front seat was still making calls, trying to discover the reason for the delay.

‘He’s always like this,’ William complained, and pulled his own phone from his pocket, pressing a button on his speed dial. A moment later he too was talking on his phone and Phemie wished on all the sanity she could muster that she’d had the presence of mind to decline Gil’s offer of a lift and to find her own way of getting to the conference hotel. Even if it had meant she’d right now be sitting on board a bus stuck in the same traffic jam, at least she wouldn’t have to be putting up with the prima donnas around her.

When the rear passenger door was wrenched open, she almost jumped out of her skin.

‘Accident. Two cars, at least, from what I could see. It didn’t happen that long ago. Emergency services have been called but we need to act now. Out.’

Phemie didn’t need to be told twice and after he’d ordered the
chauffeur to pop the car boot, Gil retrieved a small medical kit. ‘It’s all I’ve got.’

‘It’ll have to do. We can improvise wherever possible.’ They started walking away from his town car, both of them ignoring William’s protests.

‘Improvise, eh?’

‘Sure.’ She grinned at him. ‘If you want to survive a week in the outback, Professor, you’d best be a fast learner.’

A spark of interested delight flashed into his eyes, which left Phemie catching her breath with a wave of tingling anticipation. ‘Oh, I am, Dr Grainger. Just you wait and see how fast I can learn.’

A
S THEY
walked past the parked cars, some impatiently honking their horns, others deciding to switch off their engines, Phemie was glad the accident hadn’t happened in one of the tunnels. Thankfully, from what she could remember of Sydney, they weren’t too far from Sydney General hospital, which meant that help would be on its way sooner rather than later. All she and Gil really needed to do was provide triage for the patients and provide whatever care they could.

‘I thought there were only two cars involved.’ Gil pointed to where there were two other cars, having slammed on their brakes and skidded into other cars.

‘It looks like a backwards letter K,’ Phemie remarked. There were three lanes of traffic, all of them now blocked by cars strewn across the lanes. Some of them had stopped perilously close to each other but had managed to avoid crashing. Of the others, they could see that some had only been hit in front, others were crumpled at both ends but the main car, right in the centre of the crush, appeared bashed from all sides.

‘How do you want to play this?’ Phemie asked, more than happy to defer to Gil.

‘Take a look at the passengers in the surrounding cars. I’ll check the main one to see whether there are any survivors.’
There were two men out of their cars who were also trying to help and Gil walked up to them.

‘My colleague and I are doctors. Have you any information on the situation?’

‘Uh…we’ve called for emergency services—’

‘I did that,’ the younger man interjected, and Phemie realised he could be no more than twenty years old.

‘Good thinking,’ she praised. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Connor. That’s my dad, Jim.’

‘I did twenty years in the army,’ Jim remarked.

‘Then you’ll be able to keep a clear head.’ Gil nodded. ‘If you can keep traffic controlled and maybe find a way to clear a drivable path through for the emergency crews, that would be of great assistance. Take point where needed.’

‘Yes, Doctor,’ Jim replied, almost snapping a salute.

Gil turned to Phemie. ‘Go check out those cars.’ He pointed to the ones at the rear of the mess. ‘Report back as soon as you can. I’ll do the same.’

With that he headed off to the car in the centre as Jim and his son started taking control of the traffic. Phemie walked over to the end car and peered inside. Only one person.

‘Hi. I’m Phemie. I’m a doctor. I’m here to help.’ She’d said those words, or a variation of them, time and time again. It was true, too. She’d become a doctor so she could help people, patch them up and support them in their time of need.

This poor man required her attention now and she soon realised he was having difficulty remembering his name. After a brief examination, she could see a large bump already forming on his head. She needed him to keep as still as possible until the ambulance arrived. Phemie looked around his car in the hope that she could find something to keep his head supported.

She found a newspaper and a towel amongst his belongings in the back seat and was able to fashion a neck brace. All the while she worked, she continued talking to him, asking him
questions, getting him to say the alphabet and count to twenty—anything to stop him from resting too much and falling asleep. Keeping his mind active was very important if he’d suffered a brain injury.

Carefully, she came from behind him and managed to manoeuvre the makeshift neck brace into place with little fuss. ‘There. That should help but you must stay as still as possible,’ she instructed. She looked around them outside and realised a few more people had left their cars and were wanting to help out.

She climbed from the car and called to a woman who was standing not too far away. ‘Hi. What’s your name?’ Phemie asked.

‘Nora.’

‘Great. Nora, can you come and talk to this man? He’s sustained a head injury and I need him to keep still but not to go to sleep.’

‘OK. What’s his name?’

‘He can’t remember at the moment. That’s not important. Just ask him to say his times tables or count or spell words, things like that.’

‘OK. I can do that.’

‘Good.’ Phemie took a deep breath, then headed towards the next car. Gil was striding purposefully towards her.

‘How are you doing?’

She pointed. ‘Patient in this car has an elevated pulse, sluggish pupils and a bad bump to the head. I’ve fashioned a neck brace to keep him stable and have a lady talking to him to keep him lucid.’

‘You fashioned a neck brace?’ Gil took a few steps closer and peered into the car, then turned back to Phemie and shook his head in wonderment. ‘Good improvising.’

‘Thank you. What’s next?’

‘Ground zero car is a mess. Both front passengers are dead. I think, but I’m not entirely sure, that there may be another person
in the back of the car. Even if I’m right, it’s all so mangled, I’m presuming they would have died on impact.’

Phemie shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Any idea what may have caused the accident?’

‘I’m too busy right now to figure out the whys and wherefores. Let’s just help as many people as we can.’

As they headed off to check on other vehicles, they both stopped for a moment when they heard the sounds of sirens heading in their direction.

‘A welcome sound,’ Gil murmured.

It wasn’t long before they received help, the paramedics attending to Phemie’s head injury patient and fire crews sorting through the wreckage. The police took over from Jim and his son, thanking them for their assistance, and soon a very slow parade of cars passed by as they continued to work.

Two women, both in their thirties, had escaped unharmed except for seat-belt bruises. ‘We still need you to go to the hospital to be evaluated,’ Phemie said firmly to one of the women who was eager just to go home and lie down. ‘Sometimes, in situations such as this, your body can be in shock and other symptoms can present themselves a few hours after the initial accident. Please,’ she urged. ‘Go to the hospital, let them monitor you for the next few hours. It’s a necessary precaution.’

‘Dr Grainger is absolutely right.’ Gil spoke from behind her, pulling off a pair of gloves. At the sound of his soothing English accent, Phemie felt a mass of tension leave her body. How was it he could have such a calming effect on her? Perhaps keeping him around at the Didja base for a week wasn’t such a bad idea after all. They could do clinics, assist with house calls and emergencies then at the end of the day they could sit out on the verandah. Gil could talk to her in his normal easy-flowing tones and her body would instantly unwind. So rich, so deep, so…Gil.

‘Wouldn’t you agree, Dr Grainger?’

It was then Phemie realised she was standing there, staring up at him as though he’d just hung the moon. She gave herself a mental shake and nodded. ‘Absolutely, Professor.’ She honestly had no idea what she was agreeing to but if Gil had said it, it must be correct, right? When she turned to look back at the two women, Phemie realised that they, too, appeared to be under Gil’s thrall.

Both women were looking at him as though he was the most perfect male specimen they’d ever come across and they would be more than willing to do as he’d suggested on the proviso that
he
was the doctor who looked after them during their time of investigation.

‘You’re a professor?’ The first woman preened. ‘English, handsome and a professor.’

‘Are you married?’ the second woman asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Whilst Phemie thought the question gauche and impolite, it was only then that she realised that even
she
didn’t know the answer to that question. All this time she’d been looking at him, mildly flirting with him, enjoying his company—as he had obviously been enjoying hers, given that a few times she’d been positive he’d wanted to kiss her—and yet she hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might be married. It was so unlike her not to be sure. She planned everything. She was Miss Hospital Corners!

Even more surprisingly, she realised she was holding her breath, along with the other two women, as they waited for his answer.

‘No,’ he replied politely, but the firmness in his tone indicated there was a lot more to what he was not saying. His back had become more rigid, his shoulders were firmly squared and he was clenching the used gloves tightly in his hands. It was as though he was channelling all his frustration, his annoyance, his pain into the gloves in order to keep himself under control.

Pain? Gil glanced at Phemie and, yes, there it was. A deep, unabated pain in his eyes, and it only confirmed her feeling that there was a lot more going on. What had happened to him? Had he lost a loved one? Had some tragedy struck his life? Perhaps he had been married and it had ended in divorce? A bad marriage wasn’t something anyone liked to talk about with random strangers. Was Gil’s life in turmoil? Could that possibly be one of the reasons why he’d embarked on the travelling fellowship? Was he running away from his life?

‘Let’s get you ladies over to the ambulance.’ Gil turned and called for one of the police officers to come and escort the women to the paramedics. ‘Phemie,’ Gil said when they were alone again, ‘I was just talking to Kirk, the lead fireman, and he said there
is
someone in the back of the centre car.’

‘Oh, no.’ Phemie had looked at the wreckage and hadn’t been able to see anyone but, then, the rear of the car had been so bent and pushed out of shape, it had been impossible to see everything.

‘They have specialised equipment to pick up heat signatures, which tells them how many bodies—that sort of thing. They found a heat signature in the back.’

‘Wait, but that would mean—’

‘The person’s still alive.’

‘Oh, my gosh. All this time. If we’d known…’ Compassionate pain filled her eyes and Gil marvelled at the woman before him. She’d handled herself so professional, so brilliantly with the emergency and even though he knew that working with the RFDS, she’d often be called to assist in all kinds of different and unique situations, to see her actually working her way methodically through what was required filled him with pride. It was an odd sensation, feeling proud of this woman he barely knew, but each different facet of her personality she allowed him to see only enhanced the gravitational pull he felt towards her.

‘Is there anything we can do to help with the extraction?’ Phemie started walking towards the centre car.

‘Better leave it to the fire crews. They have the equipment to cut the person out. They’ve already peeled back the roof, which gives them better access.’

‘To the people in the front,’ she pointed out. ‘But the rear of the car is so mangled it’s going to take them a lot longer to get to that person. It might end up being too late.’ Phemie stood back from the centre car, watching the emergency services team do their jobs.

They were in the process of shifting the two deceased bodies from the front of the car, hoping it would give them better access to the rear. The ground had already been sprayed with foam to ensure no leaking fuel ignited. This, however, made the area quite slippery, especially as she was only wearing a pair of flat boots beneath her jeans. Her light green shirt was covered by her navy jumper and Phemie was glad she’d dressed comfortably that morning. Then again, she’d anticipated already being at her hotel by now where she would have showered and changed into clothes more befitting a medical presenter at the conference.

Gil was dressed in a suit and had discarded his jacket before they’d left the car, his tie was now missing and she wondered whether he’d used it as an improvised tourniquet or whether it was rolled up in his trouser pocket. His crisp chambray shirt was no longer crisp, but was streaked with grime, blood and dirt.

It didn’t matter. What they wore, how they looked, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the trapped person and as Phemie looked on, she wondered if there wasn’t a way to extract the patient from the rear of the car rather than going through the front.

‘The only place that person could be is lying on the back seat floor of that car.’ Phemie spoke clearly.

With the way the car seemed to have folded in on itself, she had a point. ‘That’s not a lot of room.’

‘A child?’

‘A teenager? I think we can safely surmise it’s not a six-foot man.’

‘Agreed. He simply wouldn’t fit into such a tiny space. A woman?’

‘That’s more likely, but how did they get to the floor? With her seat belt on, it would have been an impossibility.’

‘Maybe the seat belt snapped. Maybe they unbuckled it just for an instant to pick something up off the floor.’

‘Too many scenarios and no need to puzzle our way through them. What we need to focus on is the best way to extract the person.’

‘Or at least to get medical aid to them so that whilst the extraction process continues, they’re at least getting analgesia and fluids.’

‘If it was possible to…’ He stopped and thought some more, trying to study the mess before them.

‘Cut through the rear? That’s what I was thinking but then the petrol tank poses a problem.’

‘What about going in—?’ Gil broke off and growled with impatience. ‘The only way is what the crews are doing now. Removing the front passengers so we can get to the person in the back.’

‘Frustrating.’

‘I don’t usually attend accident sites,’ Gil murmured. ‘Not in the last few years at any rate.’

‘Prefer to stay in the hospital and wait for the patients to be brought to you?’

‘Something like that.’ Gil frowned at the slow, meticulous way the emergency crews were doing their best to get to the trapped person. It made him think about the plane accident that had taken the life of his wife and baby daughter. Had she panicked as the plane had plummeted? Had she felt any pain? Had she felt alone? Had she been thinking of him?

Gil hadn’t thought about his wife’s death in this much detail since the funeral. After he’d buried his family, he’d walked away, determined not to look back, determined to lock his heart up and never open himself up for so much pain ever again. He’d thrown himself into his work, wanting to make a difference with his research, with his developments. He’d lost weight, was hardly sleeping and, as William had termed it, was ‘becoming a shadow of his former self’.