he didn’t let her. She wasn’t enough for him. ‘I care about you, Kelsey. I always will. But I don’t want to get married to you any more. I need…’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what I need.’
Whatever, it wasn’t her. And Danny pushed her out of his life. Nothing she said or did was able to change his mind. Their parents, their friends: nobody was able to get through to him. It was over and he wanted her to walk away.
And in the end she had to accept it. Accept that she wasn’t what he wanted any more. That he needed to adjust to his new life, and she wasn’t going to be part of it.
She wasn’t able to face carrying out the rest of their plans on her own. The life they’d intended. So she sold their house, split the proceeds with Danny. And she walked out of her teacher training course. Being a maths teacher would have reminded her too much of the life they’d planned together. So she applied to train for something completely different. Something that would make a difference.
She became a firefighter.
A good one.
Payback, in her eyes, for having her own life saved.
Every time she heard the call over the Tannoy saying it was an RTC, it still sent adrenalin coursing through her veins. Brought back the memories, the shaky feeling, the fear that she wouldn’t get out alive. But every time she shoved the emotions back where they belonged. In the past. Because she had a job to do.
The same job she needed to do right now.
Kelsey was the nearest to the fax machine, so she ripped off the top copy and headed straight for her fire engine. The rest of the crew were sliding down the pole from the mess room and getting into their firefighting gear, which was set out ready by the doors of the fire engine—the jackets hung up, the boots ready to be stepped into and the trousers neatly rolled down round them, so they didn’t have to waste time getting things in the right order. It was a routine she knew well—one she’d practised in drill after drill, and done plenty of times before real emergency calls. She kicked off her shoes and stepped into her boots, pulled her trousers up, shrugged on her jacket and climbed into her place in the rear of the engine.
Ray, the station manager, was already in the front seat, tapping into the computer. Kelsey handed him the fax and he scanned it, taking in the map reference and details. ‘Another driver’s called us, the police and the ambulance. Nothing about any other casualties or what sort of state the road’s in. Better put your PPE and conspicuity surcoats on now,’ he said to the crew. Joe, being the driver, was exempt until they’d stopped—then he’d need to put on the gear before he got out onto the carriageway.
‘What’s the plan, guv?’ Kelsey asked.
‘If the police get there first, they can set up traffic diversion. If we’re there first, we need the “police accident” sign up while I do the risk assessment,’ Ray said. ‘Kelsey, you’re the one with ALS training.’
As well as doing an advanced life support course, she shared a house with Matt, a paramedic, which meant she’d picked up a fair bit about casualty management.
‘If the ambo team aren’t there, I’ll need you to check out the casualties,’ Ray added.
‘Sure, guv.’ Kelsey nodded.
‘Road conditions good,’ Ray reported back to Control. ‘Visibility fine.’
It wasn’t ice or fog or heavy rain that had caused the crash. It was a summer afternoon, and the sun wasn’t yet low enough to dazzle a driver. So Kelsey’s best guess would be speed. That, or someone deciding to ignore the law and use a mobile phone without a hands-free kit—and then discovering the hard way that you couldn’t use a phone and drive safely at the same time.
Something she already knew, from extremely bitter experience.
She pushed the thoughts aside and concentrated on her job.
It turned out that the fire crew were the first on the scene. Joe parked on the side in front of the crashed lorry; Ray, as the officer in charge, did the risk assessment and radioed back to Base. ‘Dual carriageway, bit of a tailback but access is fine on the main road. Other carriageway fine, just the usual rubber-necking. No injured casualties on the carriageway. We’re going to check the vehicles now. No hazardous materials being carried that we know of. Some fuel spillage that needs containing.’
Ray directed his crew to contain and absorb the fuel spillage, and lay out the firefighting equipment to cover the area. ‘Brains, can you check the casualties and report back?’
‘Sure, guv.’ Kelsey smiled back at him, not minding the nickname. The crew had chosen it once they’d found out what she’d done before she’d become a firefighter—and it told her that she was accepted. Part of the team.
The lorry driver was shaking, clearly in shock, and Kelsey took the space blanket from their limited medical kit and put it round his shoulders. ‘OK, love. The ambulance will be here soon. Any pain I need to tell the medics about when they get here?’
‘No, I’m all right. But, oh, God. The other driver…’ He shuddered. ‘I can still feel his car going under my wheels.’
‘What happened?’ she asked gently.
The lorry driver shook his head. ‘The road’s clear. I dunno. I was doing sixty. Everything was fine. He must have been going past me, in my blind spot—next thing I knew, he was…’ The driver choked.
Kelsey glanced at the carriageway. From the pattern of skidmarks and the dent in the central reservation, it looked as if the driver had hit the barrier, spun round and ricocheted back into the path of the lorry.
‘OK, love. Come and sit down at the side of the road. Take a deep breath for me. And another. That’s right.’ She guided him to a safe waiting place. ‘The medics’ll be here any minute now. I’m just going to take a look at the car and see what I can do for the driver, OK? But someone will be here to see you very, very soon. If you need anything, come and see one of us, but make sure you stay on the hard shoulder, where it’s safe.’
‘My wife. I ought to…’ He swallowed hard.
Kelsey guessed what he was trying to say. ‘We’ll get in contact with her for you, love. Soon as the police are here. Don’t use your radio or mobile phone here, will you? Fire risk,’ she said economically. There was a ten-metre exclusion zone from the incident for using radios or mobile phones—a spark could ignite any leaking fuel. She patted his shoulder. ‘Back with you in a bit, OK?’
She steeled herself for a closer look at the car. No way was the driver going to get out of the car and walk away without a scratch. But at least there wasn’t a bull’s-eye on the windscreen, so either his airbag had kicked in or he’d just been lucky and hadn’t hit the windscreen head first.
There wasn’t a huge amount she could do before the ambulance arrived. But she could go through the basics—the course she’d taken plus what she’d learned from Matt would help.
ABCDE, she reminded herself. Work through it. The same way Matt did. Airway, breathing, circulation, disability, exposure.
She could see that the driver’s door was jammed but tried it anyway. No luck. Same with the passenger’s side. But she could at least get into the back—once the car was
