‘Just lie back and relax.’
Jessica felt she had no option but to comply.
‘But I need you to stay awake,’ the woman added, as Jessica closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.
Damn. They didn’t half want much. She felt so sleepy. She opened her eyes and looked around to try to distract herself from the sleepiness trying to claim her. She saw that the man holding Prince had brought him up as close as he could get without being in the way. Jessica could see the course vet was having a good look at her horse. The man holding Prince gave her the thumbs-up signal.
She tried to lift her hand to wave back and offer some sort of gesture of thanks, but it was too heavy. And her brain was struggling with basic thought and battling exhaustion. God, she was tired. And sore; the pain was masked, but there was enough of a feeling to tell her she’d done some damage. At least she hadn’t broken her neck – if she could feel pain down her right side all the way to her foot, she couldn’t have broken her leg or have serious spinal damage, right?
She noticed a few familiar faces gathered around Prince – fellow competitors who had been before her in the draw and their strappers; someone would make sure Prince was looked after. That was the great thing about the horse community: they were all fiercely competitive, but they all banded together when necessary. And was that Zoe and Lucy, two of her young pupils, standing over there too? Poor kids, having to see this.
Jess was loaded into the ambulance and the doors banged shut behind her.
*
The trip in the ambulance seemed to take just moments – or maybe it was an hour? Jessica was in no state to know, or care. But with the event being in the city’s parklands and less than a kilometre from the Royal Adelaide Hospital, it was more likely just a few minutes. She was wheeled into an open area with cubicles divided by curtains, and hoisted onto another gurney. The paramedics wished her all the best, and said goodbye. She thanked them in a mumble. She tried to apologise for their wet, muddy attire, but they were gone. She hoped they had a change of clothes in a locker somewhere.
Left alone, Jessica returned to worrying about Prince. When she tried to picture the accident, her mind went blank. She was able to relive their take-off, with Prince failing to fit in the extra-small stride, but was unable to recall the actual fall and the horse being on top of her in the water. She really hoped they hadn’t lied to her about his injuries so she wouldn’t worry. What if he had to be put down? Jessica began to sob. Oh, God, he’d looked so forlorn.
She chided herself into getting a grip. He’d been upright and on all four legs. He was probably just a bit bruised and feeling sorry for himself. And exhausted – he’d managed to get around half of his first international two-star cross-country round.
Jessica wondered who might have sorted out her gear and taken Prince home. She wished she knew what was going on. She felt naked without her mobile. And her wallet – wouldn’t they need her Medicare card? Oh well, perhaps her full name and date of birth would do. But of course they had all her details – they were on the medical armband each competitor was required to wear. She relaxed slightly. Someone would call Steve, her listed emergency contact, and he would be by her side as soon as he could. Though, he was at least an hour’s drive away. Had someone phoned him already? Was he still at tennis? Tears began to sting.
Her best friend, Tiffany, was her second emergency contact. But today she was off competing at Burra – miles away – and would have her phone off or not with her for most of the time.
Jessica blinked back the tears. She needed someone beside her to tell her everything would be okay. She had to keep it together. But she was frightened, and so lonely. More tears prickled, and a few slipped out and down her cheeks.
Jessica felt a wave of pain roar down her right side and promptly burst into sobs. She’d never felt so utterly alone and helpless. She realised she’d lost track of her pain whistle – hadn’t sucked on it for ages. She looked around and down. Suddenly the thought of the pain returning was quite terrifying.
She found the whistle clutched in her hand, lying on her chest. Thank God she still had her little friend. But how long would it help her? She took a suck and firmly told herself to pull it together. There was no blood or protruding bones that she could see; she was probably only bruised and suffering from shock. All of this was most likely just precautionary and part of event procedures to comply with their insurance cover.
‘Hi, I’m Anna,’ said the nurse who had materialised beside the bed, dragging the curtain closed behind her with a long whoosh and metallic zing.
Jessica tried to say hi, but her chin was too wobbly and her voice came out as a croak. She thought she probably should be embarrassed to be blubbering like this, but then decided the nurse would have seen a hell of a lot worse in her time.
‘Are you in pain?’
‘Just feeling sorry for myself,’ Jessica finally managed with a grimace of a smile.
‘You’re allowed. I hear you’ve had half a tonne of horse on top of you, you poor thing,’ she said. ‘You’re damned lucky to still be here, let alone conscious. Now, first up, I’m going to get these wet clothes off and get you warm. If you’re not already, you’ll be cold soon. And I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut your boots off. And they look so expensive. I need some heavy-duty scissors, back in a sec.’
Jessica nodded, feeling a new wave of tears threatening.
‘The ambulance guys said your horse got up okay. Thank goodness for that,’ the nurse continued when she reappeared with a large pair of what looked like dressmaker’s shears. Jessica nodded. Tears poured down her cheeks again. She didn’t know what had set her off this time; she’d known her boots would have to be sacrificed and had thought she’d already come to terms with it. She looked down at them, wondering what damage they were hiding. Now she was thinking about it, her boot felt really tight, like, excruciatingly tight. The sooner it was off, the better. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt.
‘Such lovely boots – what a waste. I feel terrible doing this. Hopefully they’re covered by your insurance,’ the nurse said as she began to cut.
Jessica mumbled and tried to make a mental note to remember to look into their contents insurance, but she was suddenly feeling very queasy. She felt the bile rise.
‘I think I’m going to be …’ Too late. She only just managed to turn her head to stop the vomit from going down her front. It went onto the floor instead. Her throat burned from the acid and the absence of anything else in her stomach.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry,’ she groaned.
‘It’s okay. Someone will clean it up later. It’s my fault; I should have made sure you had a bowl first up. You might have concussion. Do you think you lost consciousness?’
‘I don’t think so, but it is all a bit of a blur.’
‘You might need a CT scan. We’ll see what the doctor says when one turns up. Not sure when that will be.’
The nurse went back to work on her boot. Jessica could feel the movement of every snip. It didn’t really hurt, but did feel uncomfortable. She hoped the nurse wasn’t doing any more damage to her leg. She looked away; she didn’t want to see anything gory when the boot came off.
As she studied the geometric pattern on the curtain, Jessica felt time starting to do weird things again. One moment she felt like she’d been in the hospital for hours, but the next it was as if only seconds ago she and Prince had been making their way around the course. And she’d been doing so well. A touch slow, but clear. Damn it!
Jessica heard the words, ‘Just over here,’ and then the ashen, worried face of Steve appeared.
‘Steve,’ she whimpered.
‘Oh, God, you poor thing,’ he said, coming up alongside her and putting his hand to her face. Tears welled again. ‘How are you? Are you okay? What happened?’ He was babbling; a clear sign he was way out of his depth.
‘I’m okay,’ Jessica reassured him. ‘Anna, this is my husband, Steve,’ she said to the nurs
e who had finished removing her clothes – Jessica thought she’d never been so embarrassed in her life, if she could remember it happening – and had draped a hospital gown over her. Jessica hoped when they moved her for X-rays someone would remember to do up the back of her gown if she didn’t. Anna was now covering her with a blanket, being careful to leave her injured leg free. Jessica couldn’t bring herself to look down at her leg; the cool breeze on it compared to the gentle warmth over the rest of her told her it was uncovered.
‘Hi there,’ Anna said, accepting the hand Steve offered. ‘We won’t know the extent of her injuries until she’s had X-rays, and possibly a CT scan, and seen a doctor.’
‘CT? Shit – that sounds serious!’
‘It’s too soon to know anything much yet,’ Anna said, ‘but Jessica being so coherent is a great sign.’
‘Where’s Prince? Who rang you?’
‘Prince is with Tash and Donald Roach. It was Tash who called me. Can I get you anything?’ he asked, looking around helplessly.
‘She’s nil by mouth until we can make absolutely sure she doesn’t need surgery,’ the nurse warned without looking up. Surgery? Jesus. Jessica felt sick to the stomach at the thought. There probably wasn’t anything left to vomit up, but that hadn’t stopped the pure bile from burning its way up her throat and out her mouth the first time.
‘I think the boots probably saved you from a lot more serious injury,’ Anna continued.
‘Steve, how bad does it look?’
‘It’s fine. Seriously. There’s no blood or anything. Not even any swelling.’
Jessica loved that Steve was there holding her hand, providing assurances, but at the same time she suddenly wanted to be left alone to go to sleep. And she wished the nurse was one of those surly, silent types, not Little Miss Chirpy. God, there was so much going on around her; beds being wheeled in and out, people bustling about. It was like Rundle bloody Mall. A slightly overweight man pushing a yellow bucket with the handle of a mop appeared, mopped her sick up, didn’t acknowledge her apology to him, and disappeared, all in the space of less than thirty seconds. Did he just wander around looking for sick his whole shift? How did he know he was needed right there, right then?
It was all quite exhausting.
A young doctor appeared in a white coat with a stethoscope draped around his neck. Jessica almost giggled at how clichéd he looked. Great, they sent the intern, she thought, taking in his young, boyish looks.
‘Hi, I’m Doctor Grant,’ he said, picking up the chart Anna had just put down. While Doctor Grant was reading, mumbling to himself and nodding, Jessica was trying to work out if Grant was his first or last name. Oh, what did it matter? She relaxed back into the mattress, too tired to care. She could hear Nurse Anna and Doctor Grant talking around her, but it was as if she was underwater; she couldn’t make out precisely what they were saying.
And then he was right beside her, touching her leg, poking and prodding her stomach, and asking questions. She answered them all as best she could.
‘I don’t think there’s too much damage done, but we’ll know for sure after your X-rays. I’ll see you a bit later,’ Doctor Grant said, with a friendly hand on her shoulder. He was smiling warmly down at her. He nodded and offered a smile to Steve, and was then gone.
Chapter Three
Jessica was desperate to go home. She was in an overnight stay area, not a proper hospital ward, in the closest bed to the corridor, separated from the other patients by curtains. It was really just like the initial casualty area, perhaps not quite so busy. She’d barely slept a wink thanks to the glaring light in the hall outside the room and the pokes and prods and assessments they’d given her at regular intervals, not to mention the trotting in and out to do the same for everyone else in the room – if there was a door, it was never closed. The Panadeine Forte she’d been given had helped her snatch some sleep, but each time, she’d woken with a start, fighting for air and feeling like she was back in the filthy water trying not to drown.
She’d suffered many a sleepless night thanks to competition nerves, but never had she experienced nightmares like last night’s. A few times she really had thought she was drowning. She shuddered, recalling how terrified she’d been. Hopefully when she got home to her own bed they would go away. Yes, she was just unsettled, she told herself forcefully.
God, she wished Steve would hurry up. She’d urged him to go home yesterday, get a decent night’s sleep and bring her some clean clothes in the morning. Until he arrived, she was stuck here in this scratchy hospital gown with the knotted ties poking into her lean back and bum. At least someone had tied them for her along the way. She couldn’t remember when.
She looked down at her injured lower leg, which was now a lovely shade of purple. The nurse who’d put the cast on had sworn her to secrecy – the lighter fibreglass casts in the wonderful array of colours Jessica had had to choose from were only meant to be for kids. Apparently the public health system preferred adults to lug around the old-fashioned plaster that would only stay bright white for a matter of minutes rather than bear the extra cost of brightening up an injured person’s life. Jessica hoped the nurse, whose name she’d forgotten, wouldn’t get in any trouble. She wasn’t sure how leaving with her leg looking like a beacon in forbidden purple could possibly go by unnoticed. The colour was so loud it was practically shouting.
Her injuries had turned out to be minor – just her right ankle fractured in two places – but she’d had to stay overnight to let the swelling go down before a cast could be applied. Apparently her needing to wee and being able to – God, how bloody awkward, embarrassing and downright awful were bed pans for women? – was a very good indication all was well, according to the new nurse tending her. Anna had long since finished her shift, said goodbye, and wished Jessica and Steve luck before going home.
Doctor Grant had been back to check on Jessica after the X-rays and had pointed out, while shaking his head slowly with wonder, that she had got off very lightly. And didn’t Jessica know it? There were plenty of stories about riders being killed when their mounts had fallen on them – either from the force of being crushed under a horse or having the hooves of a creature struggling to its feet do irreparable damage to internal organs or the brain.
But Jessica couldn’t shake the feeling of embarrassment of having fallen right in the middle of the water jump, the jump that always attracted the most spectators. And, God, there had been hundreds of people sitting there – not to mention the TV cameras. Probably best she’d had to be carted off in an ambulance; if she’d had to walk out she might have died of humiliation! She was relieved she hadn’t seen any news coverage of the event – the media loved showing the thrills and spills. Bad news is good news.
A jolt of fear went through her. What if Prince was distressed about being in a foreign stable? What if he hadn’t had his regular nightly feed? He’d be out of sorts. She told herself to get a grip, she was getting hysterical. It was she who was out of sorts if her routine got out of whack – Prince was much more easy-going. He was probably savouring the attention Tash and Donald Roach were no doubt lavishing on him, and enjoying the company of all of their horses.
By all accounts, Prince really was fine. That was the main thing. But all that work down the drain. It would take a lot to get back to where they’d been after a few months being laid up. Maybe she could get someone to keep Prince on track while she was in plaster? It would cost a fortune, though, and that was money they really couldn’t spare. She wouldn’t be able to instruct either, she suddenly realised, so there wouldn’t be any cash coming in. Prince would definitely have to be turned out, along with Beau, the youngster she was bringing up. God, and just when he had been coming along so well too. Beau was sure to be pining. She racked her brain for a time in the last four years since having them both when they’d spent a night apart. She tried to calm herself down; she just had to get home and sort it out.
Jessica shifted her weight. Damn, she was
aching all over. It was as if Prince had actually been tap-dancing on her in his studded shoes. She lay back and stared up at the ceiling. Where the bloody hell is Steve? Her leg ached something wicked, but she wanted to avoid painkillers as much as she could – the last thing she needed was diarrhoea when she couldn’t bolt to a bathroom. While much of the day before was a blur, she could clearly remember Nurse Anna warning her of the most common side-effect of the painkilling tablets she was being given.
She turned her head at a rustling sound and was surprised to see Doctor Grant enter. Was he still on the same shift or a new one? He seemed a little more tired and uptight than the day before as he inspected the nurse’s purple handiwork. He pronounced it a job well done and handed Jessica a packet of Panadeine Forte, saying, apologetically, that if she needed more pain relief, she’d have to see her GP. Then he said he’d made an appointment for six weeks’ time for her to come back to have her plaster off, and to contact them if she had any problems in the meantime.
‘Right,’ she said, nodding and trying desperately to take all the information in and keep the details straight in her mind.
He handed her an envelope, wished her all the best with her recovery, and left with a wave of his hand.
‘Thanks, for everything,’ Jessica called, but he was gone, the door closing with a click behind him. Now they finally close the damn door!
*
It seemed to Jessica that she had been waiting for hours after Doctor Grant left, tapping the covers on the bed with her fingers and fiddling with the woven design on the pale pink cotton cellular blanket covering her, before the door to the hall opened with a whoosh, and in strode Steve.
He took his dress Akubra off and pushed a hand through the top of his hair to lift it up a bit. To Jessica’s well-trained eye, it meant he was harried. Something had gone wrong. Or perhaps it was just that his morning schedule had been disturbed and now his mood out of kilter. Steve would’ve had to get up extra early to do his morning run around the stock – or perhaps he was waiting to do it when they got home. Either way, the change would have him a little antsy. She’d be agitated too, if the situation was reversed and her schedule was so dramatically changed. It was one of the things they had in common and one of the reasons they worked so well together: they both enjoyed being structured and well organised. People would say they were obsessive, but for them it worked.
Leap of Faith Page 2