and keep still, Liam,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ve been in a car accident.’
‘He’s lightening up a bit.’ Andrew took a package from Mickey. ‘Thanks, mate.’
‘Why don’t you get in out of the rain?’ Jennifer suggested. ‘I’ll have a look at your leg.’
‘I’m all right.’ Andrew had his foot on the first step of the Land Rover. He enlarged the rip on the leg of his jeans.
‘That’s one hell of a cut.’ Mickey sounded impressed. ‘I think you’d better let the doc take a look.’
Andrew had already folded a large gauze pad and pressed it to his leg as Jennifer looked up. ‘Andrew is a doctor, Mickey. We went through medical school together.’
Not precisely together, she amended silently, fitting her stethoscope to her ears. More like at the same time. Competing fiercely for the top spot of their intake. Alternating their positions at the head of the class and taking intense satisfaction in proving themselves superior to the other in whatever field they were competing. Academic, practical or even social—the struggle had blurred the boundaries of all aspects of those years. Looking back, the antagonism had provided a memorable background to Jennifer’s tertiary education. It had been a fight she had revelled in. And the enemy had been Andrew Stephenson.
‘You sound like an American tourist,’ Mickey told Andrew.
‘I’ve been living in the States for a few years,’ Andrew responded. His tone was weary. ‘I suppose I’ve picked up a bit of an accent.’
‘Liam’s got a flail chest but breath sounds are equal at present.’ Jennifer’s attention shifted briefly to Andrew. ‘You’re a general surgeon, aren’t you?’
‘Not any more.’
‘What?’ Jennifer’s brow furrowed. ‘Have you specialised in something, then?’
‘Not exactly.’ Jennifer’s stare at Andrew wasn’t productive. His head was bent, his attention on the dressing he was holding to his calf. A dressing that was already soaked with blood.
‘Is that an arterial bleed?’ Jennifer snapped.
A figure appeared beside Andrew before he had time to respond. Tom Bartlett glanced at Andrew’s leg, then towards Jennifer.
‘I’ve got one of the boys to take your truck back to the hospital with the two people from the other vehicle, Jenny. They don’t seem to be injured badly but they’ll need checking. How’s Liam?’
‘He’s pretty seriously injured. Under normal circumstances I’d be calling for a helicopter to get him to Christchurch. We’ll have to get an ambulance in by road.’
‘No go, sorry.’ Tom’s face was grim. ‘There’s been a massive slip on the other side of the hilltop. Our access is completely cut off.’
Jennifer marshalled her thoughts rapidly. ‘You’ll have to come with me,’ she told Andrew. ‘I’m going to need some help.’
‘I can’t.’ Andrew shook his head. ‘I’m on holiday. My camper van’s over there.’
‘I don’t give a damn about your holiday.’ Jennifer couldn’t believe Andrew’s casual attitude to this situation. ‘This is serious,’ she told him coldly. ‘Liam’s life might depend on you sacrificing a few hours of your precious leisure time.’
‘What I meant was, I don’t have a current practising certificate for New Zealand.’ Andrew met her furious glare without blinking. ‘I’m not licensed to treat patients here.’
‘I don’t give a damn about that either,’ Jennifer said briskly. ‘You’re qualified to help. And you need medical attention yourself. You’ve already lost quite enough blood.’
‘What about the camper van?’
‘Stop arguing and get in,’ Jennifer ordered. She looked at Tom. ‘Can you sort out the van?’
‘Sure. Where do you want it?’
‘The hospital car park is blocked. Have it taken up to my place.’
‘Hang on a minute—’
Jennifer ignored Andrew’s protest. ‘Did Wendy get hold of you, Tom?’
‘About extra staff? Yes.’ Tom nodded confirmation. ‘I got hold of Janey and she’s going to round up Michelle and Suzanne.’
‘Great.’ Jennifer’s head swivelled. ‘Let’s get going, then, Mickey.’
The fire officer climbed down the steps and looked at Andrew. ‘You’d better get in,’ he told him, ‘so I can fold these steps up and shut the doors.’
Andrew paused for another moment, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he climbed into the back of the vehicle, sitting heavily on the bench seat that ran parallel to the stretcher.
‘I knew this holiday was going to be a disaster,’ he informed Jennifer. ‘I’ve known it for nearly a year.’
‘Why did you come, then?’ Jennifer was fitting the electrodes from the lifepack to Liam’s chest and a pulse oximeter to his finger. Her tone was unsympathetic.
‘I couldn’t miss it.’ Andrew gave a snort of laughter that held no amusement. ‘After all, it is my honeymoon.’
IT WAS not a moment to offer congratulations.
Jennifer Tremaine ignored Andrew Stephenson’s statement regarding his holiday and the odd implications it carried. Jennifer didn’t care about the reasons Andrew had returned to this side of the globe or why the trip might be proving less than satisfactory. If there was a new wife sulking in the back of the camper van because of some marital dispute, Tom could sort it out. Andrew certainly didn’t seem bothered but that was hardly surprising to Jennifer, given what she remembered about the man. She could put aside what she thought of his personality, however. The fact was, he was here, and Jennifer badly needed the professional skills he was capable of providing. When Mickey slammed the back doors of the Land Rover closed she almost smiled with satisfaction. She had Andrew Stephenson trapped for the moment and she was taking him in the direction she had chosen.
Despite the protective wet-weather clothing, Jennifer was soaked and cold. She took a moment away from her assessment of Liam Bellamy’s condition to reach for some towels in an overhead locker. The thick, dark blonde curls of her hair were plastered to her head and still dripping enough water to be a real nuisance.
‘Blood pressure’s 100 over 60,’ she informed Andrew as she roughly dried her face and hands. ‘Heart rate’s up to 130. He’s shocked, but his airway’s still clear and his breathing hasn’t deteriorated any further.’ She shoved a fresh towel towards her passenger. ‘Get yourself a bit drier,’ she ordered. ‘You must be frozen. Wrap yourself in a blanket as well.’
‘Thanks.’
