couldn’t see a thing when the lights went out!’ The older woman sounded annoyed. ‘I tripped over the coffee-table.’
‘Were you knocked out?’
‘No, but I’ve cut my leg and you know what my skin’s like.’
Jennifer nodded. Edith Turner had been on steroids for years to treat her lung condition. Even a slight knock could tear her papery skin badly. Judging by the blood-soaked towel around her lower leg, this accident had been more than a slight knock. She touched the towel to find the stain almost dry.
‘It’s stopped bleeding, anyway. Take a seat in the consulting room and I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes. I’ve just got a few stitches and a dressing to take care of.’ Jennifer was debating whether to open the internal door from the waiting room to call for Wendy’s assistance when the outside door opened again.
‘The front driveway is completely blocked!’ a cheerful voice informed Jennifer. ‘So I had to come in this way.’
‘Margaret!’ Jennifer was delighted to see another of her senior nurses. The uniform the older woman was wearing was a surprise. ‘You’re on night duty. You’re not due in for hours yet.’
‘Thought you might need some extra help what with this weather.’ Margaret Coates pulled a clear plastic hood clear of her grey hair.
‘You’re an angel,’ Jennifer told her. ‘Can you take Edith in to the consulting room and have a look at her leg? You might need to soak that towel off. I’ve got a bit of stitching to finish in the treatment room.’
The last stitch in John’s palm was being tied when Wendy came into the room. ‘Contractions are back to ten minutes apart,’ she reported to Jennifer. ‘Liz is asking for some pain relief.’
‘I’ll go and see her. Could you dress John’s hand? Put a plastic bag over it all when you’ve finished so it doesn’t get wet. John wants to go and have another look at his boat.’ Jennifer stripped off her gloves and stood up. ‘Did you get hold of Saskia?’
‘Sorry, the phone lines seem to be out.’ Wendy was ripping the covering off a crêpe bandage. ‘I’ll try again later.’
Margaret signalled to Jennifer as she stepped into the hallway. ‘Edith’s got a nasty avulsion,’ she said. ‘And the skin flap’s all scrunched up and torn.’
‘Put a moist dressing on it,’ Jennifer directed. ‘I’ll come and sort it out in a few minutes.’ She moved quickly towards the door further down the hallway as the surgery bell sounded again. Jennifer paused for a second, not wanting to enter the maternity suite until she was able to focus completely on her patient. Her level of tension needed lowering.
If the phones were out there was no way of ringing home, but Saskia was far more responsible than most girls her age. If there had been any problem getting all the children home safely, she would have found some way to contact Jennifer on her mobile. She could reach Brian on his own cellphone if absolutely necessary but calling him in to help deal with a stressful influx of casualties was the last thing Jennifer wanted to do. Wendy and Margaret were both very capable nurses. Surely even this storm couldn’t throw anything at them more than the three medical staff could deal with. There was nothing life-threatening about the injuries arriving so far and as long as Liz’s labour was straightforward, they should be fine. Jennifer took a deep breath and entered the maternity suite.
‘Sorry to have been gone so long, Liz,’ she told her patient cheerfully. ‘Let’s have a look at you and see what’s happening.’
Ten minutes later, Jennifer headed back to the treatment room. Wendy and Margaret now had Edith on the bed.
‘I’ve had a go at straightening this flap.’ Wendy looked up, the tweezers poised in her gloved hand. ‘What do you think?’
Jennifer eyed the wound. ‘Couldn’t have done better myself. Could you dress that, please, Margaret?’ She waited until Wendy had dropped her gloves into the rubbish bin near the door. ‘Liz is about six centimetres dilated so she’s definitely in labour. I’ve set up the Entonox for her to use for pain relief but it’s better if she keeps moving at the moment. Can you stay with her?’
‘Sure.’ Wendy nodded. ‘Sam McIntosh is in the consulting room with his mother. He needs looking at.’
‘What happened?’
‘Apparently the wind caught the garage door and it hit him on the head. Possibly unconscious but only very briefly. He seemed fine but rather quiet. Jill got worried when he vomited about half an hour ago. Looks like concussion.’
Jennifer knew Sam well. Six years old, he was the same age as the twins. Sam lived just down the valley from Jennifer’s property and often came to play after school. He looked pale and unusually subdued at present.
‘I’m going to shine a bright light in your eyes,’ Jennifer told the small boy. ‘Try and keep them open for me.’
She managed to complete a full neurological check and reassure Sam’s mother before another interruption occurred. This time it was her cellphone. The flash of panic that something had happened at home intensified when the caller identified himself as Robert Manson, one of the local fire officers.
‘We’ve got an accident near Barry’s Bay.’ Robert’s voice was difficult to hear over the crackle of static and the background noise of the weather and people shouting. ‘We need you on scene, Jennifer.’
‘How bad is it?’ Barry’s Bay was well away from the route the children would have taken and they had probably been home for hours by now.
‘We’ve got one of the drivers trapped. He’s unconscious. He’s the worst but we’ve got a couple more patients.’
‘I’m on my way.’ Jennifer moved fast. She was donning over-trousers and her oilskin parka by the time Wendy found her.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Car accident. We’re going to need some help, Wendy. Do any of the other nursing staff have cell-phones?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Get hold of Tom Bartlett, then, if you can. Let him know what the situation is.’ If he wasn’t already on the accident scene, their local police officer should be able to use his four-wheel-drive vehicle to round up some extra staff.
‘Do you want Brian called back?’
‘Not yet.’ Jennifer was determined to keep her partner as a last resort. She picked up the large tackle box that contained her resuscitation kit. ‘We need a bed made up for Sam. I want to keep an eye on him overnight. Run a neurological check every twenty minutes or so for now.’ She gave her nurse an anxious glance. ‘I hope I won’t be too long.’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll hold the fort,’ Wendy assured her confidently. ‘Rather you than me out in that lot. It’s not going to be pleasant.’
Pleasant was an adjective almost as far removed as possible from anything that could describe the conditions Jennifer found herself in. It was now only 5.30 p.m. but it felt like the middle of the night. The wind was strong enough to rock the solid four-by-four vehicle she was driving and the rain heavy enough
