‘Eight months.’
‘Is he normally this quiet?’
The woman shook her head. ‘I saw the truck coming,’ she told Harriet, her voice breaking. ‘I saw it coming but there was nothing I could other than to hold my baby as tight as I could.’
‘Where were you?’
‘In the first carriage. We didn’t get hit. We just got thrown around a bit and then the train stopped with a horrible jerk.’
The baby was moving irritably under Harriet’s hand and then it started crying. She was pleased to hear the sound but it wasn’t enough.
‘He’ll need to be checked out, because of his age if nothing else. Stay here for now, okay?’ She took a yellow tag from her pocket and slipped the elastic around the baby’s arm.
She moved on swiftly. Several people had cuts and bruises but nothing major. A very young-looking ambulance officer was putting a dressing on a laceration. They all needed green tags.
‘Take these people to the next tent,’ Harriet told her. ‘And anyone else who’s walking and can talk to you.’ She could see someone sitting slumped behind the ambo so she moved on again, dropping to a crouch beside a middle-aged woman.
‘Hello, can you hear me? What’s your name?’
There was no response. She shook the woman’s shoulder gently and felt her tip sideways to crumple to the ground. Immediately, she tilted the woman’s head back to make sure her airway was open and checked for breathing.
It was shallow. And rapid.
‘I need some help here,’ Harriet called.
It was Sam who came and a paramedic. ‘Let’s get her on a stretcher.’ The paramedic nodded. ‘Red tag?’
Harriet nodded. And moved on.
How much time was passing was difficult to assess. She knew they’d been here for a while because it was getting dark enough to need her headlamp on. Even after the less seriously injured victims had all been moved to another area, there still seemed to be something urgent to be done every time she turned around. Bleeding that had to be controlled. Broken limbs that needed splinting. Head injuries that had to be carefully and repeatedly assessed to watch for any signs of deterioration.
More of their team was here now, including Angus and Kate. The patient she’d seen being intubated on arrival had been taken away by a flight rescue team for transport to the nearest trauma centre but another seriously injured person had been brought in. Jack was beside the head of the stretcher, using a bag mask to assist breathing.
‘Head injury,’ he said. ‘And there’s a tourniquet on his upper right arm.’ He turned to head outside again as soon as the doctors took over but he spotted Harriet as she hung a bag of IV fluids on a hook beside the patient she was monitoring.
For a split second their gazes held and there was a question in Jack’s eyes. Was she coping? Was she okay?
It only took a nod and the hint of a smile and he was gone again but Harriet was left with the impression that he would have stopped to talk to her if she hadn’t given him that reassurance.
That moment was enough to give her a new burst of energy. She had no idea how long she’d been on her feet now with so much swift moving, crouching and getting up again, helping to lift heavy people and racing to find equipment or medication needed, but she was okay.
Stable patients, including the baby, were being taken by ambulance crews to the nearest hospitals. A bus had arrived to take people with minor injuries to get a thorough assessment from nearby medical centres. The most seriously injured people were being taken by the air rescue medics to major hospitals that could provide emergency surgery if needed.
Gradually, the treatment area was getting empty. Rescue personnel were being sent to take a break in a tent that had been set up to provide hot drinks and food.
Blake came back, his face pale and weary. Jack was beside him and Harriet had to fight the urge to go to him and put her arms around him. He looked more than a bit shattered. Instead, she filled a polystyrene cup with coffee and added the sugar she knew he liked and took it to him. Sam was doing the same for Blake.
‘Two more fatalities,’ Blake told them. ‘One was still alive when they cut through enough wreckage for us to get to him but...’
He didn’t have to say any more. Whoever it was hadn’t made it out.
‘There’s still two people unaccounted for,’ Jack added. ‘So we’re staying on. If some of the team want to get back to town, there’s a flight leaving soon. There’s no real need for us all to stay now.’
‘I’ll stay,’ Harriet said.
‘Me, too.’ Sam nodded. She glanced over her shoulder as someone pushed their way to the table with the urns of hot water and supplies for drinks.
‘I’m not going anywhere. This is great.’
Harriet was watching Jack’s face, concerned about just how bad it had been in that carriage, with the person they hadn’t been able to save, so she saw the way his eyes narrowed.
‘Having fun, are you, Pete?’ His tone was cold.
‘Best job I’ve been on ever, kid,’ Pete agreed. ‘How ’bout you?’
Jack said nothing, which was hardly surprising. Had Pete really just demeaned him by calling him ‘kid’?
‘I’ve been with the firies who are trying to get access to the back of the worst carriage,’ Pete added cheerfully. ‘We reckon that’s where the last of them are.’
Of them? Harriet just stared at Pete. Did he actually see the victims of this disaster as real people? With families and friends who were probably frantic with worry right now and who could be about to be devastated by news of their deaths? Right now, it felt like they were extras, somehow, in the movie that was starring Pete Thompson as a hero. Had he always been this shallow? Had he walked out on her when she’d been scarred and broken because she hadn’t matched up to what his leading lady was supposed to look like?
She turned away. Walked away, until she was outside the tent. Sam was following her.
‘Unbelievable, isn’t he? What did you ever see in him?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m going to find the toilets. You want to come with me?’
‘Don’t need to, thanks. I went not long ago.’
What Harriet did need was just a moment to herself. To take a breath and try and figure out how to stop her buttons getting pushed so easily by someone who was no longer part of her life but had left enough damage to be a problem. He was the reason she’d never had the courage to say those words to Jack first, wasn’t he? She’d been abandoned once. Rejected because of something that wasn’t anything to do with who she was as a person but it had made her feel smaller. Less loveable.
And she wasn’t. Jack had loved her.
She gulped in a breath. Was it really in the past?
This wasn’t the time to even go there. She wasn’t as alone as she needed to be to follow that line of thought. There were still a lot of people moving around out here. A lot of lights flashing and the noise of hydraulic cutting equipment in the background. A photographer who was snapping images of the scene, probably for a newspaper. She hadn’t even thought to bring her camera, Harriet realised. Because she was a real part of the team again, not just there with a newly invented role because people felt sorry for her.
She felt, rather than saw, the figure who arrived beside her. The person who’d helped her get back to this point in her life. Who’d believed in her.
‘They’re going to call us as soon as they get near anybody else in the wreckage, if they’re still alive,’ Jack said quietly. ‘We’re supposed to take a break until then.’
‘Was it awful?’ Harriet whispered. ‘The last one?’
‘Yep...’
Someone else came out of the tent and Harriet couldn’t help her head turning swiftly. The last thing she wanted was for it to be Pete. She let her breath out in a sigh of relief as she saw that it was Angus, heading back to the treatment ar
ea. She should probably go there herself and help tidy up and make sure they were ready if any of the missing people arrived needing help but something kept her still. She could feel the way Jack was looking at her.
‘He wants you back, doesn’t he?’
‘What Pete wants doesn’t make any difference.’ Of course it didn’t. He hadn’t been there when it counted, had he? Jack had. He’d been there for her right from the start of the hardest part of her life, even though she’d pushed him away. And when she’d let him closer, he’d been there a hundred per cent. A thousand per cent. As invested in her achieving success as she had been.
So loyal. So trustworthy.
‘I saw you... Earlier today. Outside the hospital gates.’
Oh, help... Harriet had an instantaneous flashback to that moment when Pete had tried to kiss her. This was way worse than anything Jack had overheard in the equipment container.
‘He wanted to apologise, that’s all,’ she said. ‘He knows how badly he treated me.’
Jack snorted. ‘And that makes it okay or something?’
Something in his tone gave the impression of an anger that Harriet had never associated with Jack. It scared her.
‘I know you’ve had your doubts about us,’ Jack said. ‘And I get that this is probably making things a whole lot worse.’ He drained the rest of his coffee from the cup. ‘It’s up to you whether you believe in me,’ he added quietly, ‘but, for God’s sake, Harry. Believe in yourself. You deserve better than Pete bloody Thompson.’
Harriet opened her mouth to tell him that she knew that. To confess that she had been confused by Pete’s reappearance in her life because it had been so sudden and it had stirred up old feelings. That she knew it bothered Jack and that the tension between them had frightened her because it felt like there was a new obstacle they both had to deal with and it felt a lot bigger than any difference in their ages and how Jack might feel about starting a family and...the fact that he’d never told her that he loved her.
At the same moment that she drew breath to speak, however, the shrill sound of a whistle cut through all the other sounds outside. And the radio Jack had clipped to his belt crackled into life.
‘We’ve found the last victim. Medics needed, urgently.’
Jack crumpled the polystyrene cup in his hand and dropped it.
And then he walked swiftly away without even a backward glance.
Harriet could only watch him, her chest too tight to allow her to even take a breath.
It felt like she was watching him walk right out of her life.
CHAPTER TEN
BLAKE EMERGED FROM the tent only seconds after Jack had walked away.
He had an extra pack in his hands and he was scanning the scene in front of him.
‘Have you seen Sam?’
‘She’s gone to the toilets.’
He hesitated for just a beat. ‘Take this,’ he said, then, handing her the pack. ‘And come with me. We might need an extra set of hands.’
Harriet shoved her arms through the straps of the pack and jogged a couple of steps to catch up with Blake. Her heart was thumping. She wasn’t going to be in the safety of the treatment area now. They were heading into the heart of the mangled wreckage of the train and, sharply illuminated by several powerful floodlights, it looked as intimidating as anything she had ever faced. It was one of the overturned carriages and there was a ladder secured between wheels that led up to the side of the carriage that was now a roof.
Jack was already disappearing into a hole where access had been gained through broken windows. A fire officer reached out with a gloved hand to help Harriet climb the ladder.
‘Keep clear of any edges,’ he warned. ‘Some of them are still sharp.’
Another fire officer was on the top. Another ladder had to be climbed, this time down into the carriage.
There were no floodlights in here. Just the beams of their headlamps.
‘Over here,’ someone shouted. ‘Hurry... I can’t stop the bleeding.’
Jack was there first. Harriet saw him crouch and then reach under what looked like the buckled framework of a seat half covering the shape of a body. She let Blake get past her and then the fire officer who’d been in the space moved back, climbing over the seat to where his colleagues were waiting.
‘Looks like a femoral bleed,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve got as much pressure on as I can.’
Blake was bent over the back of the person. ‘Can you hear me?’
Harriet could hear the response. A low groan that became words.
‘Yeah...can you get me out of here, mate?’
‘That’s what we’re here for. Are you having any trouble breathing?’
‘It hurts...’
‘It hurts to breathe?’
‘Nah...it’s just my leg...where he’s pushing on it.’
‘Sorry, mate...’ Jack’s tone was gentle. ‘But I have to stop you losing the red stuff.’
‘He’s caught,’ one of the fire officers told them. ‘We were cutting the frame of the seat but then he tried to move and that’s when the bleeding started. His name’s Frank,’ he added.
‘Foot’s still trapped.’ Jack had angled his head so that the light was further down than where he had his hands pressed to Frank’s thigh.
It looked more than trapped from the glimpse that Harriet caught. His lower leg had been impaled by a thick metal rod and the foot was crushed beyond recognition.
Blake’s head turned. ‘Hand me the oxygen cylinder and a mask, Harry. And get the IV rollout. I want to get a line in and some pain relief on board for Frank.’
The oxygen and mask were in a side pocket of the pack but then Harriet had to find enough space to open the pack properly and find everything that Blake needed. The wipes and a cannula, a Luer plug and tape. A giving set and bag of fluids and then the ampoules of drugs. She was crouched in a position that was beyond uncomfortable but she still had to move as quickly as possible and make sure she didn’t make a single mistake.
Jack asked her to find a tourniquet and dressing pads. The awful groans of their patient subsided as the drugs took effect but Blake wasn’t happy.
‘Blood pressure’s dropping. Harry, come and squeeze this bag, would you? Let’s get some fluids in a bit faster. And we need to get him out of here, stat.’ He straightened up and moved towards the fire officer in charge of this group who’d been searching the carriage. He kept his voice too low to be overheard by Frank.
‘Can you cut him free?’
‘It’ll take time. We’ll have to cut through both ends of that pipe in his leg. Even to get the gear in there safely, we’ll have to get rid of the seat on top.’
Jack stood up swiftly and his gaze locked with Blake’s. ‘Take a look,’ he said quietly, ‘but I reckon that foot’s beyond rescue.’
Harriet sucked in her breath with what sounded like a gasp. They were considering an amputation? Here?
Working in a medical field, there were always patients that you could identify with in some way. Maybe they were the same age or they reminded you of a friend or family member. And sometimes they were going through something that you had experienced.
Harriet had never felt quite this connected to a patient before. This could have been her, she realised. If that rock had been bigger. If her lower leg had been trapped and there’d been no way to free her quickly to deal with any other injuries.
Had Jack heard her shocked breath? His gaze caught hers as Blake crouched to peer under the seat and she could read the message as easily as if he’d spoken aloud.
The choice might well be between losing his leg or losing his life...
Blake, as the senior medical officer present, clearly agreed.
‘We’ll use ketamine anaesthesia,’ he told Jack and Harriet. ‘And go below the knee as distally as possible.’ He turn
ed to the fireman. ‘Get a Stokes basket down here so we can get him out. And get a chopper on the way for immediate evacuation.’
‘Roger that.’
It was the most dramatic medical intervention Harriet had even been a part of but it was remarkably quick and very smooth, thanks to the calm and confident actions of the two men she was assisting. Harriet’s job was to monitor Frank’s breathing after he had received the anaesthetic drugs and to assist with a bag mask if necessary. Blake did the surgery with Jack’s assistance.
‘That’s the medial muscles out of the way. Look, the tibia’s already broken above where that pipe went through. All we need to do now is cut through the lateral muscles and use the Gigli saw, if we need to, for the fibula.’
Harriet had to close her eyes in the moment the final cut was made.
This could have been her fate so easily. It had been touch and go in the aftermath of her accident and, for a while, she’d had to imagine what life would be like if she’d lost her leg.
But she hadn’t.
Not only that, she’d fought her way back to reclaim her life.
Jack had been right, hadn’t he? She shouldn’t ever be ashamed of her scars. They were something to be proud of. A symbol of courage and stamina. For the rest of her life, they would be there to remind her of that struggle. And to remind her of the person who’d been by her side every step of the way. She had been very lucky to keep her leg.
But she’d been even luckier that Jack Evans had come into her life.
It was Jack’s turn to take the lead now as they got Frank out from the tangle of metal and upholstery and strapped him safely into the Stokes basket so that the team of fire officers could lift him clear of the carriage. Blake was staying as close as possible to their patient, the bag mask in his hand, but Jack wasn’t far behind.
Harriet was well behind by the time she got up the ladder and out of the entry access. Her leg had been squashed into awkward positions and now it was threatening to give way on her each time she put her whole weight onto it.
Rescued by Her Mr. Right Page 14