Daintree

by Annie Seaton

  Jeremy turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his bare back to her. Emma rolled over and sat beside him, comfortable in her nakedness. She picked up his hand, running her thumb over his warm skin.

  ‘When I met you, you were my entry into a whole new world. I was me, and you loved me for what I was—not as a Langford. Oh hell, Emma, when you left I missed you so much.’

  Tears filled her eyes as his fingers gripped hers, and her voice was a whisper. ‘It was the same for me. With everything that was going on back home after Dad died, for a while I thought I’d die without you there to talk to me, to support me. And knowing—thinking—you didn’t want me anymore made it so much harder.’

  ‘But we’ve made it, haven’t we? We both did what we had to do. I’m so proud of what you’ve achieved. A strong independent woman, highly respected by your community.’ He reached out and tipped up her chin so that she had to meet his eyes. ‘I still love you, Em. Nothing’s changed. There’s just been some time apart in the middle. I want you to think about that. If you think we still have something that can work.’

  She opened her mouth and he shook his head. ‘No, don’t answer me yet. I have to tell you what really brought me here. I don’t want any more secrets between us.’

  Emma sighed as Jeremy stood and pulled his jeans back on. He passed her shorts and T-shirt over to her. Once she was dressed he moved up onto the bed and leaned against the bed head with his legs stretched out. He pulled her over and settled her between his thighs; her back pressing against his chest. She closed her eyes and he lowered his head and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

  His breath was warm against her neck.

  ‘You remember my niece. Brianna?’

  She nodded.

  ‘She was still a child when you left. But as she got older, she made some poor choices. She got in with a different group of kids.’ His voice shook and she sensed it was anger rather than grief that made it tremble.

  Emma sat back and let him talk.

  ‘Brenton and Sally tried their best. I spoke to Brianna and she assured me she wasn’t into drugs. And I believed her. But one night she went to an outdoor concert at the Domain. She took an ecstasy table that had DXM in it. We found that out after . . . afterwards.’

  Emma waited. She suspected what was coming. DXM—dextromethorphan—was often used by teenagers as a kind of hallucinogen and had dangerous side effects.

  The skin on her shoulder was cool where Jeremy’s forehead had rested. He’d lifted it away.

  ‘What happened?’

  Guilt was washing off him in waves. His fingers were clenched and his voice was quiet.

  ‘At St Vincent’s drug overdoses and ice-fuelled rages were commonplace; we saw them every night. I should have been able to handle one more.’

  He was quiet for a while and Emma squeezed his hand.

  ‘I was with another patient when they brought her in.’

  By now, he was gulping in deep breaths and Emma twisted around to face him. Up on her knees she put her hands on either side of his face.

  ‘Calm down. Just tell me slowly what happened. Take a deep breath.’

  ‘I should have been able to do more.’ Jeremy shuddered. ‘I should have been able to save her.’

  She put her arms around him and held him as though she would never let him go.

  *

  He closed his eyes and let the events of that night play through his mind like a movie. It helped him detach and find the words to tell Emma what it had been like. The horror and the grief, the words he’d had to find when he’d gone to find Brenton and tell him his only child had died under Jeremy’s watch.

  ‘It was a quiet Sunday night . . .’ he began.

  They’d had three shoulder dislocations, an afternoon of the usual sporting injuries, and then the paramedics had radioed in. ‘We’ve got an adverse drug reaction. Three minutes out.’

  The team had mobilised in readiness for the ambulance. Being registrar on duty, Jeremy was in charge of airway management.

  ‘The paramedic came over to see me.’ He kept his voice level.

  He’d directed the two medical students to follow him as the doors flew open and the other paramedics wheeled the trolley in. The pink curtain around the cubicle had snapped open and the first team members lifted the patient onto the gurney.

  ‘Convulsing . . . and her body temperature is off the scale. We’ve given her oxygen and administered Midazolam for the seizures but there’s been little response.’ The paramedic’s voice was urgent. ‘She’s got a friend in the front of the ambulance but we can’t get a lot of sense out of her. We picked them up at the concert over at The Domain. No ID. All we have is her first name. Brianna.’

  Jeremy’s head had flown up as a cold premonition seized him. He pushed the curtain aside and walked across to the gurney. The young woman’s face was obscured by the medical team working frantically, but as soon as he saw the white-blonde hair, he knew it was his niece. He watched for a few seconds, satisfied that the team had the resuscitation and the airway management under control. He knew it was vital for her chances that they find out what she had taken. He swung around to speak to the young girl that the other paramedic had now brought in. It was Laura Delaney, Brianna’s best friend.

  He dropped to his haunches in front of the plastic chair, fighting for calm. Digging deep to that place where he could be detached, setting aside the knowledge that it was his brother’s daughter who was critically ill only a few metres away.

  ‘They must feel confident in you. They must feel safe with you. There must be a relationship of trust.’ The words of the professor and the drug counsellors flowed through his mind. He’d put them into practice on many nights in emergency; he needed to remember them now.

  ‘Laura. It’s me. Jeremy. Brianna’s uncle.’ He reached out and lifted up the curtain of the girl’s hair. Her eyes were wide and scared, and her nose was running.

  At least she was coherent. ‘Jeremy. Oh, thank god. It’s you.’ She burst into noisy tears and her frail shoulders shook as she sobbed. ‘I’m so scared. Brianna’s eyes rolled back and she passed out. I couldn’t wake her up and I . . . I didn’t know what to do. So I called triple zero.’

  ‘You did the right thing, sweetheart. But now you can help even more. You have to tell me what Brianna took. Do you know what it was?’

  A glimmer of something flickered in her eyes and he firmed his voice. ‘It’s very important that you tell us. It will help us save her life.’

  Rebecca’s voice hitched. ‘It was only one tablet.’

  ‘What sort of tablet?’

  ‘Ecstasy. We all took one but Brianna was the only one who got sick. She started vomiting and then she was really thirsty and she drank so much water but she kept vomiting and vomiting.’ She started to sob again. ‘And then she went all rigid. I was so scared.’

  Jeremy looked across to the medical student beside him. ‘Please take Laura over there.’ He gestured to the cubicle where a nurse was waiting before he ran over to the cubicle where they were working on Brianna.

  ‘It’s ecstasy.’ He caught the eye of the doctor who had taken over the intubation while he spoke to Laura. ‘And you need to know she’s my niece.’

  ‘There’s a high risk of regurgitation. She was with us for a moment and she’s trying to pull the tube out.’ Jeremy looked over just as Brianna’s eyes flew open and her head arched back.

  ‘She’s arresting!’ the nurse yelled.

  ‘Defibrillate.’ The doctor’s instruction was calm but the sense of urgency was second nature to this team.

  Christopher, the medical student who’d been shadowing him all night, gripped his arms and pulled Jeremy back as the assistant registrar applied the first sternum paddle under Brianna’s right clavicle. The senior nurse turned on the defibrillator screen.

  Helplessness flooded him; he had to do something. He stepped forward but the student held him back and spoke quietly.

  ‘No, Doctor. You
know the policy.’

  He shoved the guy’s hand away. ‘I have to do something.’

  ‘They’re doing all they can. It’s the same as you would do.’ He could still see the dark eyes of the student as he gripped his arm.

  Time slowed for Jeremy as they worked frantically. The noise in the room faded to a hollow buzz. All he could hear was the beeping of the machine as Brianna flatlined. His eyes were fixed on the green line that ran continuously along the bottom of the screen.

  It was too late.

  Chapter 30

  Sunday evening

  Daintree Village

  George woke with a start and sat up, frowning as someone pounded on his front door. He’d been dozing in front of the evening news.

  ‘Fire! There’s a fire over at the doc’s house!’ His neighbour’s voice got louder. ‘George, come and help us. Quick.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ He leapt from the lounge, pulled on his boots and wrenched open the door. An orange glow reflected on the water with a macabre light.

  Jim from next door was already heading to the two fishing boats lining the bank, followed by another two neighbours who had been roused by his yells. George directed his gaze to the boat ramp. Emma’s punt was on this side of the river.

  He hadn’t seen her since dropping her at the hospital that morning. Maybe she’d stayed at the clinic in town. He ran his hand over his face. But maybe she’d got a lift home the long way round. There was a chance she was inside.

  ‘Did you call the fire brigade?’ he yelled as he ran for the punt.

  ‘It’s on the way. And I called the ambos too. Grab some buckets. It’s too far for a hose to reach. We’ll have to do our best till they get here.’

  Within minutes the two boats were heading across the narrow channel but George was first over there. The punt scraped onto the concrete pad he’d laid for Emma last summer. He could hear Bowser’s frenzied barking. She must be inside if the dog was. His breath hitched and a dull ache lodged in his throat as he ran to the house. The flames were now licking along the guttering of the roof on the river side. He ran up the back steps, the flames on the post sizzling as the first bucket of river water hit them. He turned; the men had already formed a chain and were passing buckets of water from the river to the house.

  Acrid smoke burned his eyes as he pushed open the gate at the top of the steps.

  ‘Emma! Doctor Em!’ Bowser was yipping on the other side of the door.

  The flames were snapping and crackling around the back door and the timber groaned as the beams on the verandah threatened to give way. George pulled his shirt off, wrapped it around his hands, and reached for the door knob.

  ‘Fuck,’ he yelled as the skin on his fingers blistered through the fabric. He put his shoulder to the door and pushed but the door wouldn’t budge. ‘Someone help me. She might be inside.’

  There was a horrendous creak as the main roof beam succumbed to the flames.

  Chapter 31

  Sunday evening

  The old James house, Dalrymple Gorge Road

  Emma held Jeremy to her as he let out the grief that he’d been holding in for the past year. For an hour they lay there quietly and he shared his feelings. He talked about his family and of his disillusionment with medicine when Brianna had died that horrendous night last summer. The investigation into her death had found no blame and the medical staff—including Jeremy—had done all they could to save her. She smoothed his hair and held him tightly as he talked and talked.

  ‘So why do you feel as though the blame is on your shoulders?’

  ‘I should have recognised the serotonin toxicity.’

  Emma shook her head. ‘Look at me, Jem.’

  He lifted his head and his eyes were bleak.

  ‘There is no doubt that it was a dreadful tragedy. You say there was no blame found? You know that there is no way you could have diagnosed that without knowing exactly what she had ingested.’

  ‘I know that. But I carry this enormous guilt. I was there. I was there next to my niece when she died. And I couldn’t save her. I’m sure my family blame me.’

  ‘If they do, they shouldn’t. Have you been to counselling?’

  ‘No. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone.’

  ‘Is that why you left Sydney?’

  ‘It was part of the reason.’

  Then he told her of his father’s calls offering him a place back in Macquarie Street and of his reluctance to go into the family practice. ‘I’ve never belonged there. I’ve been happier up here for the past two weeks than I have since our days at uni.’

  She was quiet and still.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ He lifted his head.

  ‘Are you sure it’s the right move for you?’

  ‘It is. I know Dad only wants the best for me. Or what he thinks is best.’ Those blue eyes held hers. ‘But this is what I want. What I need.’

  ‘You’re sure, then.’

  ‘Hey, I bought a house. I’m here to stay.’

  Cautious optimism filled Emma. She leaned towards him, letting that little tendril of hope open to his warmth a little more.

  She reached down and picked her phone up from the floor. ‘Nothing from Troy. I wonder if he got the message?’

  A frown crossed Jeremy’s brow and she reached up and smoothed her fingers along the lines in his skin.

  ‘Tell me about Troy,’ he said.

  Emma shrugged. ‘I think he was interested, but I was trying too hard. When you arrived—’

  She shrugged and his surprised expression was followed by a relieved smile when she finished. ‘After you arrived, I couldn’t summon up enough interest. He’s a nice guy.’ Unease replaced the contentment she was feeling. ‘I just wish he’d ring and I could talk to him.’

  Her stomach rumbled and Jeremy smiled.

  ‘I hope you’ve got food here, because we’re not exactly in the middle of town,’ she said.

  ‘Nothing, I’m afraid. Not even a croissant crumb.’ His laugh was low and deep. ‘If you want to eat, we’ll have to go to town . . . or back to your place.’

  ‘I’ll have to go home. It’s late and poor Bowser’s inside because I didn’t think I’d be gone all day.’ She put her hand to her head. ‘And with everything that’s been going on, I haven’t fed the frogs for a couple of days.’

  ‘Come on, then. I’ll run you home.’

  Chapter 32

  Sunday evening

  Daintree Village

  The road was quiet as they turned towards the village. Emma glanced at Jeremy as he changed back a gear as they approached the creek crossing ahead.

  ‘You’re really getting used to the roads up here, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am.’ His grin was wide.

  ‘What about the rest of the things you’ll have to deal with? How are you going to cope with them?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘The wet season, the bad roads, the leeches, the mould . . .’

  ‘You’re painting an attractive picture, Em.’

  ‘Can you really stay somewhere so different to Sydney?’

  ‘I love it here. It’s alive. Even with the frogs and the leeches and the rain.’

  He reached over and picked up her hand after he’d negotiated the creek crossing. ‘And I don’t think I told you before. I love you, Em.’

  There was an eerie red glow on the horizon as they followed the river along to the village. Jeremy listened quietly as she told him about going across the river last night.

  ‘Emma, you are going to get yourself hurt one day if you don’t think before you act.’ Jeremy looked at her in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe you did that.’

  ‘Don’t you start. George has already given me a serve.’

  ‘I did think Craig was a bit unstable that first night in the pub. I’d bet he’s an addict.’

  A bright red glow lit the sky ahead as they got closer to the village.

  ‘Burning the sugar cane?’ Jeremy looked to the west as the
y turned onto the side road.

  ‘It’s a bit late in the season for that.’

  As they crested the last hill, Emma saw the flashing lights of a fire engine parked down near the river. And then the whole scene revealed itself.

  ‘Oh god. It’s my place.’ Shadowy figures were moving back and forth across her yard, ferrying buckets to the fire. But it was clearly in vain. The dark flickered with an orange light as the inferno devoured her house.

  Dread closed her throat as Jeremy parked the car. ‘Bowser! Jeremy, hurry.’ She flung the door open and ran down to the riverbank.

  The punt was on the other side of the river and Jeremy pulled on the rope to bring it across.

  ‘Quickly, Jeremy!’

  Emma waited with her hands to her mouth. Her breath hitched and she focused on steadying her breathing. The small punt was halfway across the bank when sirens blared through the night air and an ambulance arrived, followed closely by a police car with its blue lights flashing. The ambulance came to a sudden stop. Doors slammed and the paramedics hurried down the hill.

  ‘I’m so glad to see you, Emma. We got a call saying they thought you were inside.’ Tony pointed across the river. ‘The other ambulance has gone across river on the ferry to get to the house side. George tried to get inside.’

  Her legs buckled and Tony grabbed for her at the same time. Jeremy dropped the rope and ran back to her.

  ‘No, no. I’m all right. Get the punt.’ Her voice broke as a sob caught in her throat. ‘Where’s George?’

  Tony held her arm firmly. ‘They said he’s all right. I think that’s him over by the fence.’

  She looked across the river. The smoke was swirling around the yard but as she searched, she saw George sitting back against the fence post clutching her little black dog to his chest.

  ‘Oh, thank god.’

  Tony let go of her and walked back to the ambulance and she hurried down to the water’s edge. The punt had almost reached this side. A police car pulled up beside it, the macabre blue light giving the paramedics a ghoulish appearance. Emma held her breath waiting to see whether it was Craig or the sergeant. It was Craig who got out of the car and ran down to the water.