has either forgotten or had an accident,’ she said. ‘I’d better get a taxi.’
‘Maybe he thinks you’ll be on the next ferry too and is coming to meet this one—I can see it in the distance now,’ suggested the biker. He pushed himself away from the wall and went to the water’s edge, staring across the bay at the approaching vessel.
Terry wondered if he was a tourist who’d come to the island for the fishing or walking. She could well imagine him striding over the hill paths, getting rid of some of his angst with exercise, or roaring over the mountain roads on his motorbike.
They both watched the ferry draw up and disgorge its next lot of passengers, but it was soon apparent that the man’s friend had not appeared, and there was still no sign of Dr Brodie. The two of them waited as the three cars on the ferry made their way slowly after the foot passengers down the ramp to shore. The last one was a small two-door car, which stalled and then rolled back onto the ship, and the driver, a young woman, looked anxiously out of the window.
‘Give it more stick, miss,’ advised the deckhand in charge of the vehicles. ‘You need to accelerate to get over the humps on the ramp.’
The girl nodded and tried again, revving the engine hard, and this time the car shot forward and skidded over the ramp. It took half a second for Terry to realise with horror that it was arrowing straight across the space between them like a missile fixed on a target. Her feet seemed to be paralysed, be stuck in thick clay—she could see the car careering for them but she couldn’t move her body or even cry out. Then, at the last moment when the car seemed almost on top of her, two arms flung themselves tightly round her and she felt herself being lifted away from the danger and dropped not too gently on the ground, underneath her rescuer.
For a second she was winded—unable to breathe or speak—but she was aware that in the background there was the nasty sound of a heavy crash, metal being crushed and breaking glass, then a shocked silence. The body on top of hers scrambled off, allowing her to see the car embedded in the wall of the dock.
‘Bloody hell,’ said a voice over her head. ‘That was a bit too close for comfort!’
She blinked in a dazed way, and found herself gazing into the intensely bright blue eyes she’d just been looking at a few minutes before.
‘You OK?’ asked the biker. A large graze covered with grit on his chin oozed blood and his thick hair was plastered on his forehead. ‘Here, let me help you up.’
‘Yes…yes, I’m fine,’ she replied, using the strong grip of his hand to get up slowly and shakily to her feet. Her trousers and parka were covered with dirt, but she was alive—thanks to the man.
He looked at her closely then nodded. ‘Good. Then I’ll see what’s happened to the driver.’
Terry watched, stunned, as he sprinted over to the car and peered through the driver’s window then tried to pull open the door. She couldn’t believe how rapid his reactions had been as the car had hurtled towards them, or how quickly he’d recovered himself to think of the other people involved.
She scrambled up from the ground herself and ran after him to the car, where he was already trying to force the driver’s door open. It was a horrific sight, the front stoved in and as crumpled as a piece of crushed foil. The girl in the driving seat turned towards them, looking utterly shocked. An egg-shaped bruise on her forehead was rapidly enlarging and a gash above her eye was pouring blood. She put a shaking hand up to her forehead and started to whimper.
‘Wh-what happened there? I…I just touched the accelerator and it took off…’
The biker pushed his hand through the door and turned off the ignition. ‘Sometimes these automatic gear changes are quite fierce,’ he said gently. He tilted her chin towards the light and examined her forehead as he talked to her. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Maisie…Maisie Lockart,’ the girl whispered. Then her eyes widened as she remembered something and she started to scream, trying to turn round in the seat to look at the back. ‘Oh, my God…the baby…Amy…she’s in the back. Is she all right? Get her out please…get her out!’
Terry looked aghast at the concertinaed front of the car and the way the passenger seat was pushed back right against the rear. There wasn’t going to be much room for even a child sitting in the back. She heard the man swear as he gave a desperate tug on the driver’s door again and managed to open it another precious half-foot. He peered in the back then gave a little whoop of relief.
‘Yes! She’s OK. You won’t believe this, but she appears to be smiling at me!’ He pulled back and said gently to the girl, ‘Don’t worry—she looks fine, kicking her legs. From here everything looks in working order.’
The girl closed her eyes and put her head back against the back of the seat. ‘Thank God,’ she whispered. ‘Can you get hold of her?’
Terry tapped the man’s back. ‘Perhaps I could help?’ she said. ‘I’m a doctor.’
The biker whipped his head round and looked at her with raised brows of surprise. ‘Well, well, that’s a bit of a coincidence—I’m a doctor too! I must say it’s nice to have some support.’ He turned back to the girl in the car and commented with gentle humour, ‘Funny, isn’t it? You can wait all day for a doctor and then two come along at once!’
The girl gave a watery smile. ‘We’re in good hands, then, aren’t we?’
The man turned to Terry and said in a low voice, ‘As you can see, she’s had a terrific crack to her head and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s not got a whiplash injury to her neck. I think you’ll agree she needs a check-up and an X-ray. I’ll ring for an ambulance if you take over here for a second. Better not to move her at this stage.’
‘What about the baby?’ said Terry, peering into the back of the vehicle. ‘We can’t leave her on the back seat. On the other hand, I agree it’s risky to move Maisie. We could disturb a fractured vertebrae or a subluxation.’
‘Yep. We’ve got to be cautious if she’s displaced a joint,’ he agreed.
For a second they looked at each other, trying to weigh up the pros and cons of the problem, then Terry said with decision, ‘The little one does seem reasonably happy. I’ll watch them and try and stop this bleed above Maisie’s eye while you get help.’
‘OK. It should only be a matter of minutes…’
Terry scrabbled in her rucksack until she found a packet of tissues, which she pressed firmly against the wound. Maisie had started to shake and tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘I’m sorry…I don’t mean to make a fuss, but I can’t go to hospital—I’ve got papers to deliver. And what about the baby?’
Terry laid her hand reassuringly over Maisie’s, recognising the signs of shock in the girl. ‘Don’t worry about the papers—they’ll get sorted. Just tell me the baby’s name.’
‘Amy—she’s only four months. And…and she’ll need a bottle soon.’
‘Look, Maisie, you both must go and be checked over and however well Amy looks it’s best to make sure she has no hidden injury. They’ll want to observe her for a few hours and if she needs feeding, the hospital will make sure she’s looked after. And I’ll see the papers are delivered if you’ll
