beaten expression in her eyes.
‘Oh, Callie…What am I going to do now?’ she whispered.
Behind them Callie heard the shop door open and looked back over her shoulder to see a gangling young man looking down at them.
‘I saw what happened and phoned for an ambulance. The police are on their way, too,’ he said. ‘Should I make her a cup of tea? That’s supposed to be good for shock, isn’t it?’
‘Thanks for making the call to the emergency services, but it’s better not to give her anything to eat or drink until she’s been checked out, just in case anything’s broken,’ Callie explained, as she performed a swift primary survey.
It was light enough, there on the pavement where the lights from the shop shone brightly, to see that Steph’s pupils were equal and reactive to light and she didn’t seem to have broken anything. There was a painful place where the back of her head had met the ground and the start of a goose egg, but she didn’t even seem to have broken the skin, let alone be losing any untoward fluids.
‘Can you remember what happened to you?’ she asked gently, and Steph threw her an old-fashioned look.
‘Callie, I haven’t got concussion or amnesia. I’ve been mugged and had all my stuff nicked and I’m all alone in a city I’ve never visited before with nowhere to stay for the night. Oh, and I can remember the date and who’s the prime minister.’
Callie chuckled when she saw the face Steph pulled. ‘Not your type?’ she teased. ‘Well, I don’t think you’ve done yourself any major damage, but for the baby’s sake I think you ought to be checked over in the hospital.’
‘Hospital!’ she wailed over the sound of an approaching ambulance. ‘I don’t need to go there, do I? You said you couldn’t find anything wrong.’
‘Hey, Steph, look on the bright side. In the hospital it’ll be warm and dry and they’ll give you a bed to lie on.’
‘Hey, classic!’ she scoffed wearily. ‘I get mugged and lose all my money so I can’t afford even a cheap hotel but, gee, guess what? The mugger injures me so I get a bed for the night.’
Callie hoped her smile was reassuring but when she went to step aside to allow the paramedic to do his job Steph grabbed for her hand and held on tightly.
‘You won’t leave me, will you? Not until…’ Her face fell as she suddenly realised that she had no idea what was going to happen to her.
Callie’s heart went out to her, especially when she heard the tremor in her voice when she was answering the handsome young paramedic’s questions.
‘I’ll stay with you if you want me to,’ she offered, giving her hand a squeeze. ‘I haven’t got anywhere else I need to be in a hurry.’ Nowhere she needed to be for the rest of her life, if the truth be told.
‘Are you sure?’ Steph asked, seeming painfully young in her insecurity; definitely not old enough to be thrown out to fend for herself in a strange city.
‘I’m sure these nice young men won’t mind if I come for a ride with you,’ she said firmly, meeting the eyes of Mike, the good-looking young paramedic, with an authority learned the hard way during many hours of duty in a busy hospital A and E department. ‘Especially given the fact that you’re pregnant. They like pregnant mums to be calm and happy.’
‘We certainly do, Stephanie,’ he said with a broad smile, generously taking the hint without an argument. ‘So you just settle yourself back and enjoy the ride in our luxury limousine.’
‘Limousine!’ she scoffed with a dismissing glance around the functional interior. ‘Where’s the plush carpeting and the mini-bar?’
‘Hey, don’t knock it,’ Mike protested. ‘I cleaned that floor myself, just before we came out to get you, and we’ve got lots of things in here that you don’t get in a mini-bar—such as oxygen on tap.’ He gently adjusted the mask over her face as he teased her and Callie could already see some of Steph’s tension easing.
Her own anxiety had reduced the moment she’d seen how competent the ambulance crew was. Now she just needed to be certain that neither her young travelling companion nor her unborn baby had suffered any hidden injuries and she could go on her way.
Except she couldn’t really do that with a clear conscience, knowing that Steph was now without any funds whatever. Yes, she would have a free bed for the night, tonight, but after that? What resources were there for underage pregnant girls in this city? Were there any hostels or refuges? The ideal situation would be a purpose-built home where she could stay while she waited out the rest of her pregnancy, preferably with counsellors available to tell her about the options available to help her to decide whether to keep her baby or give it up for adoption.
Perhaps she would be able to find out that sort of information while she waited for the A and E staff to check Steph over. She spared a longing thought for St Mark’s, where such local gems had been collated onto the hospital database so that it would be readily to hand. Unfortunately, neither she nor Stephanie would be going back to that area again, at least not for the foreseeable future.
‘Right, ladies, hold tight and we’ll be on our way,’ the driver called as he started the powerful engine.
Callie sat herself out of the way and put her rucksack on her lap, wrapping both arms around it as she watched the paramedic check Steph’s vital signs again and note his findings on the case notes he’d started.
‘Just a few questions, Stephanie. The usual things, all right?’ he said with pen poised. ‘I need your name, address, date of birth and the name of your next of kin so we can notify them where we’ve taken you.’
Callie saw the youngster’s tension return full force.
‘My name’s Stephanie…Smith and I’m fifteen,’ she said tersely.
‘And?’ Mike encouraged, even though it was obvious she’d given a false surname.
‘And I’ve got no address and no family to notify,’ she said with a stubborn expression on her face that told Callie it would be useless to try to push her any further. The paramedic threw her a concerned glance over Steph’s head but he obviously thought the same thing if his resigned sigh was anything to go by.
‘Stephanie, that can cause problems for us,’ he said gently.
‘Why should it? I can take care of myself,’ she said belligerently.
‘You probably can,’ he agreed, ‘but according to the law, if you’re under sixteen we have to have the permission of a parent or guardian to treat you.’
‘That’s easy, then. Just stop the ambulance and I’ll get out, then you won’t have to worry about getting sued.’
‘Steph, sweetheart…’ Callie began, not really knowing what to say. She’d often had to start treating youngsters before she could get parental consent—a victim of a car crash or a child in status asthmaticus couldn’t wait for paperwork. Hopefully, Steph’s condition wasn’t life-threatening, but if it were…from the little that the youngster had told her on the coach, she was feeling too bitter at the moment to be willing to contact her family, and without a surname there was no way of tracking them down behind her back.
