IT BLINDSIDED HIM.
Blake Cooper had just swung himself off his motorbike in his allotted ED staff parking space at Sydney’s Bondi Bayside Hospital and flipped up his visor. He should have been easing off his helmet, now, and reaching for the worn leather satchel in the side pannier but he wasn’t moving at all. His fingers felt like they were stuck to the sides of his helmet and his eyes were just as stuck.
On that car...
A gleaming, vintage MG roadster.
Red.
Of course it was red. It was a giant Dinky toy, come to life.
His toy.
And, there he was. Five years old again. Finding that shoebox full of treasure at the bottom of the carton of kitchen junk his mother had bought for virtually nothing from the charity shop clearance sale. There’d been more than a dozen of the tiny pre-loved metal vehicles but his absolute favourite had been that little red MG roadster, even if it did have chipped paint and a missing wheel. He could almost feel the sharp edges of it in his hand right now, as his fingers curled into a fist—the way they had back then, as they clutched the toy hidden in his pocket, whenever something important was happening. Like when he had to change schools. Or when the big boys on the block were following him home...
Blake dismissed the memory of that fear with a soft snort. His upbringing had had its advantages because he wasn’t afraid of anything now.
And this real-life toy wasn’t anything like his miniature version. Someone must have spent a fortune restoring it. He’d bet it had a completely new motor now, and that soft, red leather upholstery certainly wasn’t original. A new staff member, perhaps? Or a visiting consultant who had the means to indulge a pricey hobby? The idea of spending huge amounts of money purely for pleasure was distasteful but he wasn’t going to allow that to tarnish a memory that had been a poignant reminder of something very special. It became so much more muted when you were an adult, that bolt of sheer happiness that life could deliver something so amazing. When you could find real treasure so unexpectedly.
He pulled his helmet off. He was tucking it under his arm when the soft, early morning air around him, still blurred with those long-ago memories, was shattered by a sound that lifted the hairs on the back of his neck.
A scream of pure terror.
‘Help...oh, God... Help...’
It was coming from the adjoining public car park. Blake’s helmet bounced, unseen, off the asphalt behind him. He vaulted over the dividing fence with only a touch of his hand to boost him. The heels of his cowboy-style boots beat a tattoo on the hard surface as he ran towards the terrible sound. His peripheral vision caught the movement of others coming in the same direction but he was there first. The young woman standing beside the opened back door of her car didn’t appear to be injured or unwell. She just looked petrified.
‘What is it? What’s happened?’
The question was redundant a split second later, because he could see into the back seat of the car now. Into the baby seat. He could see the blue lips of a baby who wasn’t breathing.
The safety harness was already undone and it was easy to lift the infant with his hands under its armpits, his fingers supporting the head. Sometimes, being moved suddenly could be enough to restart breathing but Blake could feel how unresponsive this baby was as he stepped back from the car. He dropped to his knees and cradled the baby in his arms, tilting the head back to ensure the airway was open as he covered the tiny nose and mouth with his lips as he delivered a rescue breath.
And then another. He could see the chest rising so he knew that the airway wasn’t obstructed but there was still no response. With two fingers positioned on the centre of the baby’s chest he began rapid compressions. A few seconds later, he paused to deliver another two breaths.
Other people had arrived now.
‘What happened?’
‘How long since he stopped breathing?’
The mother was sobbing. ‘I knew there was something wrong, that’s why I was bringing him here but I thought he’d...that he’d just fallen asleep... It was just before I turned into the car park...’
‘Should I go and get a resus trolley?’
It was a nurse he knew very well who was asking the question. Harriet Collins worked in the intensive care unit but she was also a founding member of the Specialist Disaster Response team that was a big part of Blake’s life as well.
Blake had filled the baby’s lungs with air again and lifted his head to answer Harriet as he started another set of compressions but then he paused for a second. He could feel the difference beneath his hands. The tension of muscles contracting as the baby took a breath on its own.
And then another.
Blake got to his feet with the baby still in his arms. ‘No trolley,’ he told Harriet. ‘The sooner we get inside the better.’
He was already taking off, heading towards the nearest entrance to the emergency department through the ambulance bay. He could have this baby in their well-equipped resuscitation area in less than a minute if he ran.
He heard the despairing wail of the baby’s mother behind him but Harriet was onto it. A swift glance back showed her putting an arm around the still terrified mother’s shoulders. ‘Come with us,’ he heard her say. ‘Dr Cooper knows what he’s doing, I promise. He’s the best...’
He also heard the mother’s response.
‘But he doesn’t even look like a doctor...’
* * *
‘So this is your first day here, dear?’
‘Yes, it is, Mrs Henderson.’
‘Oh, call me Dottie, dear. Everyone does, you know.’
‘Okay, Dottie.’
Samantha Braithwaite smiled at her elderly patient then shifted her gaze to run a practised eye over the drip rate of the IV fluids. She moved the little
