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Snowy Summer

Page 22

by Patricia Weerakoon


  ‘Too late—too late. Letter—sent you a letter—explained—please, forgive—when I am dead. Take care of Amma and Thathi.’

  ‘I am not going to let you die, Sunil.’

  His breath rasped and his body shuddered.

  ‘His airways are blocking up. I need to do a tracheostomy.’ Sheva glanced at Rosie. ‘Give him the morphine, now,’ she instructed.

  Dan held on to her arm. ‘Not yet, Sheva, I need to—’

  Sheva pulled out of his hands. ‘Shut up, Dan. What you want or need is irrelevant. I am a doctor and have to save his life.’ She glared at Rosie. ‘Do it.’

  Rosie picked up the syringe of morphine and turned to Sunil.

  Ripping off the stained gloves, Sheva pulled on a fresh pair and slipped on a mask.

  She sat on a stool by the now comatose Sunil. His breath was coming in laboured rasps. Swollen by smoke inhalation and accumulation of mucus, his airway was closing up. She had to act fast.

  Rosie lifted Sunil’s head and slipped a pillow under his neck, extending his windpipe.

  Sheva felt for Sunil’s larynx and slipped her finger down to the space between it and the cricoid. Sunil’s breathing became progressively more laboured.

  ‘Scalpel, forceps.’ Rosie handed her the equipment. Sheva made the incision into his windpipe. Rosie stood by, mopping the small amounts of blood. ‘Sucker.’ Sheva drew out the ash and thick mucus.

  ‘Clamps. Trachy tube. Clasps.’ Rosie followed her instructions. Sheva slipped the tracheostomy tube into the windpipe.

  ‘Rosie, inflate the balloon.’ Sheva held a piece of gauze to the opening. ‘He’s breathing on his own.’

  Sheva ripped the bloodied gloves off and flung them in the bin, then pushed her seat back and staggered away towards her office.

  Dan followed her and coaxed her into a chair in the corner of her office. ‘Sheva, I need to go alert our people that Sunil is here. Trace the letter he mentioned. Peter will be with you.’

  She shut her eyes, and nodded. The tears she had held back streamed down her cheeks. Tears for Sunil. Tears for his parents. For a lost dream. She longed for it all to go away.

  Sheva wiped her face when Peter came in with a steaming mug of coffee. ‘Lots of sugar and a caffeine hit.’ He handed her the cup. He walked over to stare out of the clinic window, then shut and locked it, drawing the curtain across to cut out all outside view.

  ‘They got all the guys in the other car,’ He said. ‘They were armed, as Sunil told us. We think we’re clear for now.’

  ‘But, you can’t be sure, can you?’

  ‘Sydney and Canberra are working on the mop-up operations. We will know soon. Meanwhile, we need to be vigilant.’

  Sheva sipped the coffee and sat back, running through what needed to be done for Sunil. He needed a blood transfusion, the debris removed and possibly quick skin grafts to minimise further fluid loss and septicaemia. None of the specialist treatment was possible here. She should check with the paramedics if they could transfer him to Cooma hospital. However, she doubted if they were equipped to deal with this degree of severe burns.

  ‘Peter, check if Kosciuszko Road is open. We can’t do much more for the patient here. He needs a blood transfusion and transfer to a specialised burns unit.’ She paused to consider an idea that just occurred to her. ‘Peter, can we get one of those helicopters that brought the police to fly him to Canberra?’

  ‘I’ll find out and follow up with the ambos and our people about transferring him. I’ll be in my room making the call. Meanwhile, Rosie is watching the patient, and I’ll be back soon. We will call you if anything changes.’

  Picking up the steaming mug, Sheva took another gulp of coffee and let the caffeine course through her. ‘Thank you.’

  Peter shut the door and Sheva rested her head on the back of the chair. A short shut-eye would help.

  Chapter 37

  She was caught in a bushfire. Roy was in a car and the fireball was heading directly for him. She was running towards him, screaming for him to get out, but he laughed and continued driving. She reached the car and ripped the door open. It wasn’t Roy but Sunil in the car. ‘Why did you leave me?’ Sunil sobbed. ‘We could have been together. I love you. I would have looked after you, whatever happened.’

  ‘No,’ she responded, ‘I don’t love you, I love—’

  The door to her office swung open, she jerked awake.

  Roy strode in. The door swung shut behind him. He had changed from his firemen’s suit and was dressed in the casual blue jeans and t-shirt he had been wearing in the morning when he left to fight the fire. The clothes were rumpled, and he had smudges of soot on his face and traces of ash in his hair.

  Sheva sprang to her feet. ‘Roy. Thank God you’re not injured.’ She stepped toward him. Her hands reached out to hold him.

  Roy stopped her with an outstretched arm. ‘No.’

  Sheva dropped her hand. She raised her eyes to his — and took a step back. He looked exhausted. But there was more. The easy camaraderie and affection of this morning was gone. In its place was the man she had met the first day she visited the farm. Confusion, sorrow, and anger flashed in his grey eyes.

  ‘Roy,’ she moved closer, ‘whatever’s the matter?’

  He kept his arm outstretched between them. It was as if he needed a physical barrier to prevent her getting close.

  ‘Before I say anything, thank you for what you did for Father. I have just talked to Samson. He and Rodrigo were able to work with the Fire Fighters. They stopped the fire well away from the Alpaca enclosures.’

  ‘Roy, that’s great news, but, I don’t need your thanks and gratitude — you’ve done so much for me —’ she stopped and looked into his eyes. ‘Roy, what’s wrong. Why’re you staring at me?’

  Roy’s lips tightened. He drew a quivering breath.

  ‘Why, Sheva? Why did you not tell me the truth? I have been thinking about it for the last sixty minutes — ever since I pulled that man —’ he gestured with his head towards the clinic, ‘— out of the car.’

  ‘You were the one who pulled Sunil from the burning car? Dear God, you could have been killed!’ The thought made her shiver.

  He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. A photograph. He held it between his thumb and index finger — inches from her face.

  ‘The man had this clasped in his hand.’

  They looked so happy. She was leaning into Roy, her hair blowing back onto his face. He had his arms around her, his face bent to her neck.

  ‘It’s us — on the summit,’ she gasped. ‘The Sri Lankans were taking pictures. Somehow it must have got to the people Sunil was working for. It explains how they knew where to find me.’

  ‘I was such a hero. Pulled a man from a burning car just before it was engulfed with flames. He was conscious, talking.’

  ‘You talked with Sunil?’

  Roy slipped the picture back in his pocket. ‘I asked him what the heck he thought he was doing —he showed me the picture.’

  ‘He would have said he was looking for me. He would have called me Annie,’ she whispered.

  ‘No.’ Roy took a deep breath. ‘He said he was looking for his wife.’

  ‘Roy, — it’s not what you think —’

  ‘You told me you were running away from a fiancé, a boyfriend. All the while you were married to him. Why lie to me, Sheva? I would have helped you anyway.’

  She stood silent. So, Roy believed that Sunil and she were husband and wife in every sense of the word. And that she was only pretending innocence when she refused him.

  ‘I thought that I had finally met a woman I could trust.’

  Anger gathered in the pit of her stomach and churned up her throat. Her head throbbed. How dare he judge her. She shouldn’t care what he thought of her. But, it hurt.

  No. She w
ouldn’t let him see her pain. She stood straight and stared back at him.

  ‘Sheva,’ Roy hesitated.

  Rosie pushed the door open. ‘Sheva—sorry—I can’t get a pulse. We’re losing him.’

  Sheva pushed past Roy and ran into the clinic.

  Rosie had managed to set up the ECG leads on Sunil’s chest. Sheva glanced at the printout from the machine. It was a random waveform, with no clearly identifiable QRS complexes or P waves: the pattern of ventricular fibrillation. She picked up her stethoscope and placed it on his chest. There was only a soft murmur.

  Peter had rolled in the defibrillator and was standing by with the paddles. Sheva nodded her thanks and slipped her hands into the plastic handles of the paddles. She positioned the paddles as best she could over the burnt skin.

  ‘Peter, switch the machine on.’ The current zipped through Sunil’s body. He jerked, shuddered and went still.

  ‘We’re losing him,’ Rosie said, her eyes fixed on the ECG machine.

  ‘No change. Still fibrillating. Peter, again.’

  They repeated the process, watching as the irregular waveform became smaller, slower and then flattened. The machine emitted a high-pitched note as Sunil’s heart stopped beating. The reading of the ECG was now a sheer horizontal line.

  ‘No,’ Sheva cried.

  The line shuddered then tended up. The ECG picked up: one, two, three beats, another shudder in the tracing.

  Sheva grabbed the defibrillator. The ECG continued recording Sunil’s heartbeat. They watched the troughs and peaks normalise.

  ‘We did it.’ Sheva slid onto the stool with the paddles still in her hand, looking at the still unconscious Sunil, her childhood best friend, her teenage boyfriend, her fiancé of just a few weeks ago. Her mind went to his parents. He was their only son. They had no idea of what he had been doing. They would be devastated and heartbroken.

  She said a prayer for the lives destroyed by Sunil and the people he worked for, for the girls who, even now, would be struggling with the painful effects of their actions.

  Peter’s phone pinged. He stepped away into the office to take the call.

  Sheva placed her stethoscope on Sunil’s chest. The heartbeat was soft but regular. He was alive for now.

  Peter came out of the office. ‘Sheva, the helicopter is on standby to take Sunil to the burns unit in Sydney.’

  ‘Are they taking him to Queen Elizabeth Hospital?’

  ‘Yes, the ambos will be here to transfer him to the helicopter.’

  Sheva reached for her phone. ‘I know the head of the unit well. I’ll call him and alert him as to what I have done and the condition of the patient.’

  Peter grabbed her phone. ‘No—’ he handed her a clipboard— ‘you’ll need to write transfer notes.’

  ‘Am I still under witness protection?’

  Peter nodded ‘Yes, you are Sheva.’

  The door to the clinic opened. Dan walked in, having heard the tail-end of their conversation. ‘I’m afraid you are, Sheva.’ He turned to Peter. ‘You will be accompanying the prisoner to hospital. I’ll stay here.’

  He turned to Sheva. ‘Get his transfer notes ready, Sheva. The guys will be here in a few minutes.’

  She sat in her office and wrote it all down. If only this were all a bad dream. If only—but no, this was reality.

  Peter picked up the clipboard with her notes. ‘Peter,’ she called after him, ‘make sure you have the emergency kit with extra morphine.’

  The paramedics came in with the stretcher and Sunil moaned as they moved him onto it. Sheva unhooked the saline bottle and handed it to one of the paramedics. They carried him out of the clinic and out of her life. She heard the whack-whack of the helicopter take off.

  Chapter 38

  Rosie slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and bustled around. She rinsed and put the used equipment away in the sterilizer, placed the blood-stained linen in the waste bin, the paddles and defibrillator in the cupboard, and the stained gauze and cotton in the biohazard bin. Finally, she mopped the floor.

  The clinic was empty and clean. It was as if the last couple of hours hadn’t happened.

  Sheva wished with all her heart it hadn’t.

  Queen Elizabeth Hospital Burns Unit was the best, but even there, it would take a miracle to save Sunil’s life. If he did live, he would be arrested, and disabled for life.

  Then there was Roy. She had not seen him since Rosie interrupted them in her office.

  The door to the clinic swung open. It was Dan. ‘Sheva,’ he began, ‘we found the letter Sunil was talking about. It was delivered to your PO Box yesterday. There was so much happening, I forgot to check it.’

  ‘Well, let me see it.’ she held her hand out.

  ‘Sorry, Sheva—’ he raised empty hands— ‘the letter, all seven pages of it, is with the authorities.’

  ‘My letter. It was personal. Sunil told me—’

  ‘Sheva, there is nothing private or personal for you about this situation. I am sorry.’

  ‘What was in it?’

  ‘The letter is being finger printed and analysed by people who understand these things. As for what is in it, I can tell you, but first, let’s go and get some coffee, or something stronger.’

  ‘I’d rather know about the letter.’

  ‘It’s a long story, Sheva, let’s go. Rosie—’ he glanced back at Rosie— ‘will hold the fort.’

  ‘No problem at all,’ Rosie responded as they walked out of the clinic.

  ‘I guess we’ll go to my house,’ said Sheva, too exhausted to argue.

  The ash and dust swirled around them, obscuring the afternoon sunlight. ‘Is the fire still burning?’ asked Sheva, squinting through the haze.

  ‘The fires are all contained. The wind changed direction and blew ash into town. I think the good people of Jindabyne have had as much excitement as they can take for a day.’

  It wasn’t until Sheva unlocked the front door that she remembered her other patient. The house was quiet.

  ‘Dan, where’s Edward?’

  ‘Roy took Edward back to the farm. The Dalgetty fires are under control, so the farms have been given the all clear and people are allowed to return to their homes.’

  ‘I’m glad. With all the excitement of the bushfires, I don’t think anyone other than Melanie, Peter, Rosie and the two of us even saw Edward, let alone realised who he was. It’s unlikely that there will be any questions. The Broughton-Knights will keep their secret a little longer.’ She flopped down onto her couch. ‘Did you talk with Roy before he left?’

  ‘Go clean yourself up, Sheva. I’ll make some coffee, and see if there’s something for us to eat here. We can discuss things after.’

  Sheva looked up, frowning at Dan. ‘Do you know what happened between Sunil and Roy? Did you speak to Roy?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I explained the situation to him.’

  Sheva shook her head when Dan tried to help her up. She started walking towards the stairs. ‘Sunil told Roy that he was looking for his wife. Roy saved him, he pulled him out of the car.’

  ‘I know.’

  She turned at the foot of the stairs. ‘How?’

  ‘Roy came over here when you were in the clinic fighting to save Sunil’s life. We—eh, we talked.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Given he barged in when I was on an important phone call and accused me of sleeping with you, it’s a miracle I was able to have any sort of conversation with him,’ Dan growled.

  Sheva pulled away. ‘Why — why would he think that?’ She blinked and grimaced. Waves of anger swept away the fatigue that weighed down her body. ‘No — don’t tell me. He thinks that Sunil and I were married. Then, I came here to Jindabyne and now sleep with you. How dare he make those assumptions!’ She ran up the stairs. ‘I don’t want to ever se
e him again!’

  Dan followed her up the stairs. ‘I — I explained it all to him. The Sri Lankan custom of legally registering the marriage at the engagement. I told him you were just a week away from the church wedding and consummation of the marriage.’

  He leant against the bathroom doorframe and watched her turn on the shower. Steam filled the room and he closed the door. ‘I’ll want my pyjamas to change into,’ she called through the door. ‘They’re in the bottom drawer—’

  ‘I know where to find your pyjamas, Sheva.’ Dan chuckled. ‘I was the one who put them there.’

  ‘Dan,’ she called out to him, ‘I still need to know what was in the letter.’

  ‘After you have showered,’ he called back as he walked towards her bedroom.

  ***

  They were sharing the couch and a generous tray of scrambled egg and cheese on toast. Dan spoke of how he had described Sheva’s role in the Flycatcher project to Roy. He had explained to Roy how she had been under instructions to not reveal that she was legally married to Sunil. That she couldn’t apply for an annulment without revealing her location here in Jindabyne.

  ‘How did he take it?’

  Dan smiled and tucked a lock of damp hair behind her ear. ‘Let’s say he was suitably chastened.’

  ‘Did Edward hear what he said?’

  ‘Given that Roy was yelling at me —’ the smile widened. ‘I would say he did. He was staring daggers at his son when they left.’

  ‘Dan—’ Sheva struggled to keep her head from falling into the eggs— ‘you are putting off telling me about the letter. Why are you stalling? Tell me what it said.’

  ‘Yes, you need some closure, if it is possible.’ Dan put his fork down on the coffee table and took a sip of coffee. ‘In the letter, Sunil explains what he did after you left the tea plantation. He also gives detailed information of the people and places involved in Operation Flycatcher, both in Sri Lanka and here. But above all, Sheva, the whole letter is testimony of how much he loves you and how your love and belief in him gave him the strength to do what he did.’

 

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