There was no answer.
“Rachel? Rachel?”
Just the whine of static. The contact had been broken.
Katie couldn’t help herself. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was groping in her pocket for a tissue when Craig came in.
He went back out and she thought she’d embarrassed him, but he came back a minute or two later with some kitchen roll and thrust it into her hand. He squeezed her shoulder briefly and sat down beside her. Tears continued to fall and she mopped them up.
After a while he said, “It’s a crying shame alright, but we’ll get through it.” And that was all.
But after all, what else was there to say?
CHAPTER 22
“Katie, can I have a word?”
It was the following day and Graeme had poked his head out of his office as she was passing.
“Sure. What’s up?”
He gestured her to a seat. “Just wanted a catch-up. How are you doing?”
She sat down and considered the question. Not very well, was the truth. She was sleeping badly, having dreams that jerked her gasping awake. Mostly she didn’t remember them, but in the ones she did, she would be searching for Sara in a blizzard. She would suddenly realize that she was out of sight of the base and that she herself was lost. She’d wake up, sweating.
“I’ve been better,” she admitted.
“And the others?” he asked. “How do you think they’re bearing up?”
She considered. “I think they’re coping by being very much focused on the job in hand. A tendency to drink a bit more, maybe. Nothing much more than that.” Though it was true that meals were more sombre occasions than they used to be.
“I’ve been wondering about Adam.”
“He’s lost his sparkle,” she agreed. There had been no more practical jokes lately. Maybe that had all been down to Adam. “It’s natural that he’d be upset. He’s young…”
“Of course,” Graeme said. “It’s bound to be hard on him. But I’m wondering if it’s more than that. I was watching him today at lunchtime. Nothing I can put my finger on, but he doesn’t seem quite right to me. I’d like you to find a reason to give him a once-over, just check there’s nothing wrong physically.”
Ought Katie to have realized that Adam was off colour? She glanced at the photos of Graeme’s family. Perhaps having four children had honed his diagnostic skills! She felt, well, what? Not rebuked, no, she felt sure there was no criticism implied, but it occurred to her that in spite of her best intentions, she hadn’t fully adopted the role of base doctor. She was still behaving like a second in command, waiting to be told what to do. Well, she’d better get a grip.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” she promised, “and I’ll make a few tactful enquiries when I take his next blood sample tomorrow morning.” Was there anything else that Sara had done that she wasn’t doing? Yes, there was! “Maybe it’s time for another Doc School?” she suggested. “Everyone enjoys them – they’re as much of a bonding opportunity as anything.”
Graeme beamed. “Excellent idea. This afternoon maybe? I’ll announce it at lunchtime.”
* * *
Warmed by Graeme’s approval, she went on down the corridor to the surgery. Doc School would also give her a chance to spend time with some of the guys and have a good look at everyone, assess their condition, do a kind of medical inventory.
Doc School was the name given to the regular sessions run by the base doctor over winter. It was all part of the ethos of the base which involved training up the others in one’s own skills. Katie had already helped Adam to service the generator – something that had to be done every four weeks – and Alex had taught her how to use the digger and how to navigate by the stars. As a sole medical practitioner, it was important to have another pair of hands to assist in an emergency. And then of course the base doctor herself might need treatment and you can’t put your own arm in plaster. Before she had disappeared, Sara had run a couple of sessions on intravenous cannulation and suturing. Katie considered what remained and settled on plastering as being the most fun – and most useful too as a fall on the ice and a resulting fracture was one of the things they were most likely to have to deal with on base.
At lunch the announcement of a session of Doc School was greeted with mildly ironic cheers.
Katie made a point of taking a seat next to Adam. Was he paler than usual? Maybe, but the lack of daylight was having its effect on everyone. It could just be that. But certainly he was subdued. It was Ernesto’s day off and Graeme had cooked bangers and mash. Adam usually had a hearty appetite, but today he was only picking at his food. Yes, she’d make a point of giving him a proper check-up when she got him into the surgery. Meanwhile she got him talking about his favourite football team, Sheffield Wednesday, and his family back home. He soon cheered up, discussing transfer deals and prospects for the next season.
And when Alex said, “Anyone fancy a quick game of Cluedo over coffee?” he brightened up even further.
“Count me in,” Justin said.
Graeme nodded, “Me too.”
“And me,” Rhys said.
Katie met Alex’s eyes over Adam’s head and he winked at her. She knew perfectly well that he didn’t care for Cluedo. Actually none of them did really. But it was Adam’s favourite game and Alex had clearly noticed that Adam was a bit down. They had truly become a family, pulling together to support the youngest.
“Ernesto had better be Mrs White the cook,” Adam said.
Ernesto raised his eyebrows wearily, but he didn’t object and he sat down at the table willingly enough.
“And Graeme should be Colonel Mustard,” Adam went on. “I’ll be Professor Plum.”
“Bless you, my children,” Justin said. “I’ll be the Reverend Green.”
“And Katie, can you be Miss Scarlett?”
“Sorry,” she said, “I need to set everything out for Doc School.”
“Which leaves me and Rhys to be Miss Scarlett and Mrs Peacock,” Alex said. “OK. Don’t mind a bit of cross-dressing. Who do you want to be, Rhys?”
Rhys picked Mrs Peacock and as Katie left to get everything ready, Rhys was explaining – to the accompaniment of theatrical groans from the others – that the game had been launched in 1949 and originally the lead piping token had actually been made of lead before they realized that it posed a risk of lead poisoning. The original revolver had been a Dreyse M1907 semi-automatic pistol, which was of German manufacture and…
As Katie went down the corridor his voice faded away. She shook her head and smiled to herself. What Rhys had to say was often pretty interesting – at first – but he never knew when to stop.
* * *
The killer had enjoyed his lunch. He had felt so much better since he had acted. A balance had been restored. A world out of kilter had been put straight. It had all been over very quickly. He wasn’t a cruel person and he hadn’t wanted Sara to suffer. It was just that she had to pay when her actions had done such grievous harm to someone he loved. Some things are worse than death.
Luckily she had been a little bit drunk. She hadn’t suspected a thing until the very last moment. And even then – had she really grasped what had happened? He had held her for the few seconds that it took for the light to leave her eyes.
There was one thing left to do, and that would have to wait until the Skidoos were usable again and he could get off base. Some of those crevasses were very deep and once he had tipped Sara’s body down one of them, he was confident that it would never be found.
Meantime all he had to do was sit tight. He had been careful to feign being as upset by Sara’s disappearance as anyone else. As far as the others were concerned, it was a tragic accident. Or, should that be most of the others? He wondered about Katie: she didn’t seem convinced that Sara would have gone out alone and got lost. But she would accept it in the end. The Antarctic was a treacherous place after all. Accidents did happen.
But what if she didn’t accept it
? What if she started poking around? He’d already overheard her asking one or two awkward questions. But no, he was quite safe. He had covered his tracks with his usual efficiency and no one would ever find out. And anyway he liked Katie and it wouldn’t be right to hurt her. After all, she hadn’t done him any harm. Not like Sara.
CHAPTER 23
“So to recap,” Katie said. “Position the limb with the ankle at ninety degrees. Apply the stockinette – it’s important that it’s smooth and wrinkle-free – and then the under-cast padding. You start at the knee end and work down to the ankle working from the outside in and as you wind it round the leg you take care to cover fifty per cent of the previous turn. OK, guys?”
She looked around the room. They were all there except for Graeme who had a lot of paperwork to catch up on and anyway felt he had been to enough Doc Schools to see out his time in Antarctica. Justin wasn’t able to take part, but had come to watch, and she had used him to demonstrate how to put a leg in plaster.
When they had nodded in agreement, she went on. “So then you’re ready to apply the actual cast. You take the plaster of Paris bandage and dip it in a bowl of warm water. You squeeze out excess water. Then, as with the under-cast padding, you wind it round the leg, again taking care to cover fifty per cent of the previous turn. Then you take the second roll and repeat. Get to it, guys, and there’ll be a prize for the best cast.”
They got into pairs: Ernesto and Nick, Rhys and Craig, Adam and Alex.
“Fancy a bet?” Justin murmured in her ear.
“I’ll have to make the final decision,” she reminded him.
“I trust you.”
“Alright then. You’re on. Who are you fancying?”
“I’m going for Alex. I saw him stripping down an engine the other day. Excellent manual dexterity.”
Katie considered. “My money’s on Ernesto.” What were needed here were excellent fine motor skills and she thought he would be the deftest of the lot – and most efficient too. He’d already got hold of everything he needed and had set it out just as he was used to setting out what he called his mise en scène in the kitchen. Besides, he’d been on an enhanced first aid training course before coming out to the ice. There were always a couple of people on base who had done that and Craig was the other one: so he was one to watch, too.
“What are we wagering here?” she asked.
Justin said, “I’ll make you one of my killer cocktails.”
She groaned.
He looked hurt. “I could have had an alternative career behind the bar at the Ritz, I’ll have you know. And if I win, you’ll make your special lamb stew next time it’s your turn to cook.”
“Fair enough.” She drifted around the surgery, watching and offering a word of advice here and there. Rhys was struggling to wrap Craig’s leg in the under-cast padding. He kept getting it twisted and it didn’t help that Craig was lying back with his arms folded and a sceptical look on his face.
Ernesto, as she had expected, was ahead of everyone and was about to soak the plaster of Paris bandage.
“Do we have a choice of colours for the plaster?” Nick asked. “I’d like black.”
“Sorry,” Katie said. “We only have bog standard white here.”
Alex was also doing well on Adam’s leg. But she didn’t think he was going to be as fast as Ernesto.
The first two stages, the stockinette and the under-cast padding, were fairly straightforward. The fun started with the wet plaster of Paris bandage. Once again Ernesto was ahead of the field. Katie stood and watched him as he manipulated the bandage with the same dexterity that he used for his pasta dough. All the same he was finding it hard to apply the bandage evenly.
There was a protesting yelp and Katie turned to see that Rhys had somehow managed to wind the bandage around his own arm. He hadn’t squeezed enough water out of it. The sodden bandage clung to him, dripping chalky water. “Oh hell,” he said.
He put his hand up to his head and it left a white streak in his hair.
Everyone laughed.
Katie went to untangle him. She started him again with a new bandage. As she showed him how to get the right amount of water out of it, she was conscious of a happy buzz of conversation around them. Graeme had been absolutely right. The messy physical activity had released the tension they had all been feeling. The mood had lightened.
Even Adam was smiling, looking more animated.
She went over to see how he and Alex were doing. Alex had started the second layer and it was going to be a close thing between him and Ernesto as regards who would finish first. He had forgotten to put on surgical gloves – a point against him – and she watched the blunt fingers with their oil stains under the fingernails as they carefully aligned each new turn of the bandage to cover precisely half of the one before. He was doing a much better job in that respect than Ernesto. She couldn’t believe that this was his first attempt.
“Have you done this before, Alex?” she asked.
He looked up startled and for a few moments seemed lost for words. She got the feeling that she had somehow caught him out. Then he shook his head. “No, never.”
“I thought maybe your Mountain Rescue training…”
“Just basic first aid stuff.”
She wasn’t sure that she believed him – and yet what possible reason could he have to lie?
She didn’t have time to reflect further. There was a loud groan and Katie turned in time to see a spasm of pain cross Adam’s face. His hand went to his lower abdomen.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I had a bit of a tummy upset earlier. Something hadn’t agreed with me. Then it went off and I thought I was alright. But it’s come back and I feel proper poorly. Much worse than –” He broke off and closed his eyes and groaned again.
Around them everyone had stopped what they were doing and had fallen silent.
“OK. Everyone out, please. I need to have a look at Adam.” She had a horrible feeling that she already knew what was wrong. But surely they couldn’t be that unlucky?
When the others had left the room, she lifted Adam’s T-shirt to expose his abdomen.
“Where does it hurt?” she asked.
He indicated a place on his lower right side. She applied gentle pressure, and he didn’t respond, but when she released the pressure he winced and gasped. That was known as rebound tenderness and it was indicative of peritonitis.
“I feel sick. Have I got food poisoning?” he asked.
“Let me just take your temperature,” she said. She found the digital thermometer and put it in his mouth.
As she stood and waited, Adam’s hand sought hers and gripped it. She squeezed back.
When she took out the thermometer, it read just over thirty-eight degrees Celsius. She thought for a few moments. Adam was still lying back with his head on the pillow. He opened his eyes and looked at her.
Katie answered his unspoken question. “I’m not sure what’s wrong yet.”
“You can make me better, can’t you?” She could tell he was frightened. She stroked back the ginger hair from his damp forehead.
“Yes,” she said with a confidence that she didn’t feel. It was part of her job to reassure him.
But who was going to reassure her?
* * *
“What’s the situation?” Graeme asked.
“It could be appendicitis. I’ve started him on a course of powerful antibiotics.”
“Will that be enough?”
“Hope so. When I was on the training course they said that ninety-nine times out of a hundred it wouldn’t be necessary for the base doctor to operate.”
There was a silence. Then she said, “But what if this is the one time in a hundred? Could we get him out? It’s been done before, hasn’t it?”
Graeme made a face. “Very rarely.”
“Rhys was talking about someone they got out – from the South Pole. Pancreatitis, I think he said?”
“Yeah
. That was Ron Shemenski in 2001. That was around this time of year,” Graeme admitted. “It wouldn’t be my call. And the time factor would be crucial. It’d take days to get the Twin Otters down from Canada and there’s no other aircraft that could land in these conditions. And even then the weather might prevent them from doing the last leg of the journey. I’ll ring HQ now.”
Katie listened with half an ear as Graeme outlined the situation. She really, really wanted to avoid giving a general anaesthetic to Adam unless she absolutely had to. For a major abdominal operation like this, he would have to be given paralysing drugs to relax the muscles so that she could cut through to the appendix. That would mean that he wouldn’t be able to breathe, so she would have to get a tube into his airway to enable a ventilator to breathe for him. And that was a very risky procedure for someone with hardly any anaesthetic experience and no backup.
She hoped, oh, how she hoped, that she wouldn’t have to do it.
Graeme hung up and turned to Katie. “HQ have told us to prepare a runway. They’ll try to get a flight in at the full moon – if the weather holds. I’m afraid there’s a lot of ifs. Scientific work will have to be suspended.”
The lights flickered and went out. Katie barely had time to register it before they came back on. She looked at Graeme in alarm. What if this happened when she was operating?
Graeme read her thoughts. “Don’t worry. There’s a backup generator, remember. I’ll get the guys cracking on a runway.”
“I’ll have to see who I can train up to help me if I do end up having to operate, God forbid.”
“That’s right. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”
But he made no move to bring the conversation to a close and she sensed there was more to come. When he didn’t speak, she said, “Was there something else, Graeme?”
“What? Oh, yes…” He hesitated, then seemed to make up his mind.
“What I’m about to tell you mustn’t go any further. It’s not been made public. There’s news about Kevin. I heard from HQ earlier this afternoon.”
Cold, Cold Heart Page 11