rest of the deer leapt by, over the road and into the next field.
Nathan hit the brakes, stopping the car. ‘Call for help.’
Her heart was pounding madly in her chest. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to check for casualties. After you’ve contacted emergency services go into the boot of the car and find the reflective triangle and put it in the road. We’re on a bend here, and we need to warn other traffic. We’re sitting ducks.’
Then he grabbed his bag and was gone.
She watched him run over to the car through the light of the headlamps as she dialled 999 with shaking fingers. As she watched Nathan trying to talk to someone she saw the driver fall from the driver’s side. Then her gaze fell upon the horse in the horsebox. It was moving. Alive.
I have to get out there!
But she had no equipment. No bag. No medicines. She felt helpless. Useless! She’d felt this way just once before.
I’ll be damned if I feel that way again!
‘Which service do you require?’ A voice spoke down the phone.
‘All of them. We need them all.’
SYDNEY DASHED TO the boot of Nathan’s car and panicked as she struggled to open it. At first she couldn’t see the reflective triangle he’d mentioned—his boot was full of stuff. But she rummaged through, tossing things to one side, until she found it. Then she dashed to the bend in the road and placed it down, hoping that it would be enough of a warning to stop any other vehicles that came that way from running into them.
She ran over to the ditched car and horsebox, glancing quickly at the horse in the back. It was neighing and huffing, making an awful lot of noise, stamping its hooves, struggling to find a way to stand in a box that was on its side. She couldn’t see if it had any injuries. She hoped not. But there wasn’t much she could do for the horse anyhow. She needed to help Nathan and the people in the car.
She’d already seen the driver was out of the vehicle. He was sitting in the road, groaning and clutching at his head. He had a bleeding laceration across his brow, causing blood to dribble down his face and eyes.
Nathan was in the ditched vehicle, assessing whoever was in the front seat.
Sydney knelt down, saw the head wound was quite deep and pulled the scarf from around her neck and tied it around the guy’s scalp. ‘You need to come with me. Off the road. Come and sit over here.’
She pointed at the grass verge.
‘I didn’t see… I didn’t notice… We were arguing…’ the man mumbled.
He was in shock. Sydney grabbed the man under his armpits and hauled him to his feet. Normally she wouldn’t move anyone after a car accident. She knew that much. But this man had already hauled himself out of the vehicle and dropped onto the road before Nathan got there. If he’d done any damage to himself, then it was already done. The least she could do was get him out of the middle of the road and to a safer zone.
The man was heavy and dazed, but he got to his feet and staggered with her to the roadside, where she lowered him down and told him to stay. ‘Don’t move. Try and stay still until the ambulance gets here. I’ve called for help—they’re on their way.’
The man looked up at her. ‘My wife…my son!’
He tried to get up again, but Sydney held him firmly in place. ‘I’ll go and help them, but you must stay here!’
The man looked helpless and nodded, trembling as he realised there was blood all over his hands.
Sydney ran back over to the ditched car, heard a child crying and noticed that Nathan was now in the back seat. He called to her over his shoulder.
‘There’s a baby. In a car seat. He looks okay, but I need to get him out of the vehicle so I can sit in the back and maintain C-spine for the mother.’
Sydney nodded and glanced at the woman in the front seat. She was unconscious, and her air bag had deployed and lay crumpled and used before her. There was no bleeding that she could see, but that didn’t mean a serious injury had not occurred. If a casualty was unconscious, that usually meant shock or a head injury. She hoped it was just the former.
‘I’m unclipping the seatbelt.’
Sydney heard a clunk, then Nathan was backing out, holding a car seat with an indignant, crying infant inside it, bawling away.
The baby couldn’t be more than nine months old, and had beautiful fluffy blond hair. But his face was red with rage and tears, and his little feet in his sleep suit were kicking in time with his crying.
‘Shh… It’s okay. It’s okay… I’ve got you.’ Sydney took the heavy seat with care, cooing calming words as she walked back across the road to take him to his father.
In the distance she heard the faint, reassuring sound of sirens.
‘Here. Your little boy. What’s his name?’ she asked the man, who smiled with great relief that his son seemed physically okay.
‘Brandon.’
That was good. The man’s bump to the head hadn’t caused amnesia or anything like that. ‘And your name…?’
‘Paul.’
‘Okay, Paul. You’re safe. And Brandon’s safe—he doesn’t look injured—and that man helping your wife is a doctor. She’s in good hands. He knows what he’s doing.’
‘Is she hurt? Is Helen hurt?’
Sydney debated about how much she should reveal—should she say that Helen was unconscious? Or stay optimistic and just tell him she was doing okay? The truth won out.
‘I don’t know. She’s unconscious, but Nathan—that’s Dr Jones—is with her in the car and he’s looking after her. Do you hear those sirens? More help will be with us soon.’
The sirens were much louder now, and Sydney knew she was breathing faster. Hearing them get closer and closer just reminded her of that morning when she’d had to call an ambulance for Olivia. Wishing they’d get to her faster. Feeling that they were taking for ever. Praying that they would help her daughter. She could see the same look in Paul’s eyes now. The distress. The fear.
But this was an occasion where she actually had her wits about her and could do something.
‘I need to go and help Nathan.’
She ran back across the road. The car’s radiator or something must have burst, because she could hear hissing and see steam rising up through the bonnet of the vehicle. She ducked into the open door.
Nathan was in the back seat, his hands clutching Helen’s head, keeping it upright and still. His face was twisted, as if he was in pain.
‘Is
