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‘I’m going to get her settled in the ambulance,’ she called to Bruce. ‘When the others get here, we’ll split crews, and Jim can drive me while Paul stays with you.’
She left the front door open and carried Tori to the ambulance, hoping the second car would get there soon. Tori looked tiny on the stretcher in the back of the car. Hayley covered her with a blanket at once. Next she inserted a drip, containing morphine for pain, and was alarmed rather than reassured by Tori’s lack of fight when the sharp prick came. OK, yes, she’d found a nice vein in the back of the child’s hand and the needle had gone in straight away, but she would have expected more of a protest.
She picked up the radio and spoke to the dispatcher. ‘Kathy, is there a second car on its way?’
‘Yes, Car Seven. Car Eleven just called in with a report on their status. It should be with you in a couple of minutes.’
‘OK, thanks.’ She turned back to Tori. ‘What does Daddy do at the hospital, darling?’ she asked. It would help if she could keep Tori alert and reassured.
‘He’s Dr Black,’ came a weak little voice. ‘He makes people better.’
‘Dr Black?’ Hayley echoed. She went cold.
Dear God, it had to be Byron! This was Byron Black’s daughter...
In the distance, the siren of the second car could faintly be heard. Meanwhile, Hayley’s mind raced. She’d seen him, what, twice, in sixteen years? They’d trained together in Arden’s competitive amateur swimming club in their teens. Most people had called him B.J. then, but they probably didn’t any more. She hadn’t used the nickname herself, even back then. She hadn’t felt that it suited him.
He was three years older than she was, but they’d both been backstroke specialists, tackling the sprint distances. This had meant a lot of cheering for each other, a lot of powering alongside each other in the pool and the growth of a friendship. They’d both been keen and competitive, thriving on the atmosphere, and they’d made it to the state championships twice.
Once, they’d even kissed. Lord, she hadn’t relived that delicious memory in years...
Then, when Hayley had been fifteen, Byron had gone off to Sydney to study medicine at Sydney University, and it had seemed as if he’d made a permanent life for himself in the city. He’d been openly competitive in the pool, and he was obviously ambitious about his career. He didn’t come from a professional background. His father worked in a local hardware store, and Byron had had to work hard towards each new goal. In hindsight, she had the impression that he gloried in a challenge, and she couldn’t think of any goal he’d set and failed to meet.
Hayley had run into him once on the beach around Christmas-time about seven years previously, in the company of a pretty, dark-haired woman. ‘This is my wife, Elizabeth,’ he’d said. She had introduced him to Chris that day, and the four of them had talked for a short while.
A couple of years later, they’d bumped into each other in the supermarket and had exchanged two minutes of superficial news. She’d heard a couple of things since. That Elizabeth had died in a plane accident of some kind. That they’d had a little girl.
Tori.
The sirens grew louder and the lower tone of the vehicle’s engine joined the noise as it grew closer. Then the sounds of sirens and engine both died. The second ambulance was here, parked in the street below.
Climbing out the back of her car, Hayley directed Paul Cotter up to the house. ‘Bruce is in the living room with the other patient. First door on the right,’ she told Jim Sheldon. ‘You’re driving this car. Let’s go.’
‘Righto, Hayley.’ Paul hurried up the steps, his black trouser legs a blur, to disappear inside and find Bruce.
Hayley climbed back into the car to Tori.
‘We’re going now,’ she said, gently peeling back the blanket and replacing the gauze, warmed from Tori’s over-heated skin, with freshly soaked pieces. ‘We’re going to see Daddy at the hospital.’
‘Daddy...’ said a tiny voice.
A few weeks ago, Hayley had found out that Byron was coming back to Arden with his little daughter to oversee the accident and emergency department at Arden Hospital and act as Resident Medical Officer. He must have started work there already, judging by what Tori had said. He was replacing an older man who’d retired. But Hayley hadn’t seen him yet because she’d been in Melbourne for the past two weeks, giving Max some time with his dad.
Her heart did a familiar, uncomfortable flip. Chris had been his usual difficult self during her visit. He’d hinted at the possibility that the two of them might get back together. His wistfulness on the issue was a vindication of the way she’d suffered when he’d left, but beyond that... It didn’t seem to have occurred to him that perhaps she’d moved on.
‘You’re my best friend, Hayley,’ he had whispered to her. ‘Maybe that’s what really counts.’
Her reply had been stiff. ‘I’ll always be your friend, Chris.’
He’d been her first and only lover. He’d been her husband for seven years, and he was the father of her child. Aware of all his faults, she still cared for him. It wasn’t a particularly rewarding feeling but, with Max’s needs to consider, was she just being selfish to want more?
She had driven the eight hours back to Arden in a state of unsettled questioning and hadn’t given a further thought to that trivial yet oddly pleasant piece of news, a few weeks earlier, about Byron Black’s imminent return.
And now, here she was, on her second shift back, sitting in the back of Car Seven with Byron’s injured daughter. Dear God, he would be racked over this.
The driver’s door of the car slammed shut and Jim started the engine. ‘How is she?’ he asked.
‘Pretty shocked.’
‘And the other patient?’
‘Bruce didn’t have chance to give me much of a report. He’s pretty sure it’s a stroke. They’ll just have to see how it resolves once she’s admitted. She must be in her sixties.’ She would have liked to have said more, to tell Jim, She must be either Byron Black’s mother or his mother-in-law. How’s he going to feel?
But Tori needed her attention. It wasn’t the time for gossip and conjecture with Jim.
‘We’re on our way now, sweetheart,’ she said, taking the child’s soft little hand. ‘It won’t be long. I’m going to get Mr Sheldon to talk to the hospital and tell your daddy that you’re coming.’
But Tori didn’t speak. She had her eyes closed now. Hayley left her hand where it was.
‘Jim, I’ve worked out who she is,’ Hayley told him briefly and quietly, twisting towards the front of the vehicle. ‘Can you contact the hospital and make sure Dr Black is available in A and E?’
Jim whistled. ‘His daughter? The new guy? I handed over to him last week, another CVA. He seemed good—thorough, focused, not too arrogant—but he’s going to be a mess today.’
He was.
Hayley glimpsed him standing in the ambulance bay as they pulled in. He hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d seen him. He still had the broad shoulders of a swimmer, still wore his thick, soft hair short so that it would stand up in dark spikes when he towelled it dry...or when he ran his fingers through it in agitation, as he was doing now.
He had brown eyes. They weren’t puppy brown like Chris’s, however, but tiger brown with a glint of gold, an altogether more dangerous colour. He had a long straight nose, a wide, serious mouth and a broad forehead. Each of those features was stiff with tension now. They appeared to be etched more strongly than usual, as if the sculptor who’d made him—and any sculptor would be proud to have made a human form like Byron Black’s—had dug his tools in extra deep, manipulating them with force.
There had always been an aura around Byron, something that hinted at the capacity for deep-running passion and the capacity to contain that passion carefully inside him. Today it looked as if the passion was threatening to break free.
A nurse and an orderly appeared with a stretcher and a drip stand. Hayley opened the back of the car, unlocked the ambulance stretcher from its metal track and slid it out, extending the wheels down to ground level as she did so. Tori was light and little and easy to shift from one stretcher to the other.
‘Tori! Victoria!’ Byron said hoarsely, curving his long body over her.
He was in the way of the drip line, but Hayley managed to snake it around him. As she did so, the sensitive inner skin of her forearm brushed across the top of that dark, spiky head and his hair was as silky and clean as she remembered. With the hairs of her arm still standing on end, she passed the plastic bag of fluid across to the nurse, who hung it on her stand.
An orderly began to wheel the stretcher inside. Byron was still leaning over it, his long, strong legs working instinctively to keep up as they rumbled from concrete slab to vinyl flooring, through a set of automatic doors.
‘Daddy...’ came a little voice, fuzzy from the effect of the morphine. ‘Grandma wouldn’t wake up from her sleep.’
He went white, straightened like a released catapult and turned to Hayley, blind and helpless. Didn’t even recognise her. She wasn’t surprised. ‘What happened?’ he said. ‘What on earth happened?’
‘She has a partial thickness burn over twelve to fifteen per cent of her body.’ Hayley kept her voice calm and impersonal. He needed a clear report, not a lot of words wasted in sympathy. Not yet. ‘No facial or genital involvement. The other patient in the house with her appears to have had a CVA and she’s coming in a second vehicle. The other crew will be able to give you a better report on her status...’
‘A CVA? That’s my mother...’ Byron was paler than ever now. ‘Dear God, and the two of them were alone!’
They could all hear the sirens of the second ambulance now. Byron clearly didn’t know which way to turn next, his usual control and authority momentarily deserting him. His eyes looked wild, his lips were white, his fists were balled hard. Hayley ached with sympathy for him.
‘Tori must have been terrified,’ he whispered.
‘I think she wasn’t, Byron, not until she burned herself,’ she reassured him, using his first name without even thinking about it. ‘She was trying to make boiled eggs for lunch. She thought your mother was just having a little sleep on the couch.’
‘All right, yes. I guess that’s how she would intepret it, yes.’ His vision cleared suddenly, emphasising the golden glints in the depths of his eyes. ‘Hayley! Hayley Kennett! I’m sorry, I’ve only just...’ He gripped her arm.
‘It’s OK.’
She returned his gesture, squeezing the muscular forearm she’d seen so many times, tanned and dripping wet, at swim practice. With an arm like that, it felt as if he should be the strong one but, of course, he wasn’t today, not after what had happened. She didn’t waste time reminding him that she was Hayley Morris now. She hadn’t gone back to her maiden name after the divorce.
‘We don’t know how long she spent trying to rouse her grandmother,’ she said instead, as they covered the final few metres before entering the paediatric section of the emergency department. ‘Perhaps no time at all. She does seem to have taken the ‘‘nap’’ at face value. Her dress was wet all down the front, and there are burns on her thighs and feet, suggesting that she tipped boiling water over herself when she was trying to get the eggs out of the saucepan. We found the eggs broken on the floor.’
‘Mum’s all right?’
He stood back for a moment as they transferred Tori from ambulance stretcher to emergency department bed. Its fresh starched white linens were stretched smoothly across a firm mattress, and it was surrounded by equipment and supplies whose intimidating effect could only be partially offset by pictures of dinosaurs, landscapes and fairies on the walls.
‘She’s in the care of our second crew.’ Hayley repeated herself patiently. ‘Bruce McDonald is with her. He ruled out a heart problem and diabetes, secured her airway and was trying to stimulate her into waking up when I left. I can’t say any more than that yet.’
‘This is a nightmare!’ Byron muttered helplessly.
Then he turned to the A and E nurse, and was suddenly in complete control. Only on the surface, Hayley suspected. Only because he had to be.
‘Get whoever’s on call to come in now,’ he said. ‘We need a second doctor. Tori, Daddy’s here, sweetheart. OK, we need her on monitors. Hayley, how fast are you running that drip? You have her on morphine, right? How much? Tori, you’re fine, now. You were scared, weren’t you, and you were brave and just brilliant to phone the emergency number like that, and remember our new address. I’m so proud of you. Daddy’s going to have a look at your tummy and your feet now, OK?’
Hayley answered his questions, darting her responses into his uninterrupted flow of words. After recognising her, he hadn’t looked at her again. He had pulled a chair up beside Tori’s bed and hadn’t looked away from his daughter since he’d released that brief, almost painful squeeze on Hayley’s arm.
She stepped back with a reluctance that surprised her. Her role in this was over, apart from writing up her reports, but she didn’t feel ready to let go. She wanted to look after Byron, which was strange when they’d had so little contact over the years. He was so big and capable, so determined, strong-willed and confident. It was unsettling, heart-rending, to see him this vulnerable.
She wanted to make promises and assurances to him that she had no right to make. Things like, It wasn’t your fault. They’re both going to be all right. Don’t knock yourself out.
But she was just a casual friend from years ago, someone he’d yelled encouragement to and slapped on the back in congratulation. Someone he’d kissed just once, in the corner on a couch in the dark at a party.
It had lasted for, oh, at least an hour—a first, wonderful taste of the primal intimacy that a man and a woman could find together. Then a couple of days later he’d turned up at her front door to say something awkward about his imminent move to Sydney and not wanting to get involved in a relationship at the moment.
To tell the truth, she’d been relieved to hear it. At fifteen, just a girl, not a woman, she hadn’t been ready for a serious relationship with a university-aged boyfriend who already seemed to know exactly what he wanted out of life. For a few months she’d had romantic dreams about meeting up with him again when she was a mature adult—say, seventeen or eighteen—but then those dreams had drifted into insignificance, as a young girl’s dreams so often did, and at nineteen she’d met Chris.
The automatic doors opened again as Bruce and Paul wheeled Mrs Black into A and E. A second nurse came forward to take formal charge of the new patient. As Hayley sat at the desk at the A and E nurses’ station, she heard Bruce giving a more detailed rundown on Mrs Black’s condition.
‘Blood pressure one-sixty over ninety. Pulse eighty-seven. Oxygen saturation ninety-eight per cent.’
When she was leaving, she heard Byron’s voice again. ‘Where do we have beds at the moment? High Dependency?’ Then a few seconds later, decisively, ‘No, I’m not sending her to Sydney. We can treat her here. I’m not letting her out of my sight.’
Jim had moved Car Seven away from the ambulance entrance. Hayley took the passenger seat and they drove away at the leisurely pace which came as a relief after the urgency of earlier.
‘Want to call Dispatch and tell Kathy we’ll take that patient transport now?’ Jim suggested.
‘Yes, we’re much later than scheduled,’ she agreed, then spoke into the radio. ‘Dispatch, this is Car Seven...’
The numbers of the cars implied a large ambulance fleet, but since the lower numbers belonged to vehicles now retired from service this was deceptive. This rural area didn’t need a large fleet. There was one crew on station duty day and night, seven days a week, with a second crew as back-up on call. Very often, the back-up crew wouldn’t be needed for an entire shift.
Hayley and Bruce had been diverted from the non-urgent patient transport job earlier when the urgent call-out had come.
The patient transport in this case was nearly a two-hour job, door to door. They went to a dairy farm about thirty kilometres from town where an elderly man was ready for the local hospice, in the terminal stage of his illness. After delivering him there and handing him over to the hospice staff, they returned to Ambulance Headquarters at three o’clock, and the rest of the day went by with no call-outs. Jim and Paul had gone home, while Bruce joined Hayley to finish their shift at the station.
‘Wonder how that little girl and her grandmother are getting on,’ Bruce said after they’d signed out for the day. He added before Hayley could answer, ‘Going straight home?’
She had showered and changed into black stretch jeans and a soft blue knit cotton top. ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I’m going to phone and find out how Max and Mum are getting on. If everything’s all right, I’m going back to the hospital.’
CHAPTER TWO
THE sight of his daughter in sleep was something that Byron had treated himself to every single day since her birth four and a half years ago. There was so much trust displayed in the way a happy child slept. The skin around her eyes and across her forehead was completely innocent of tension, and she slept on her back as if always prepared for the brush of his good-night kiss.
Watching Tori sleep was like a compass point in his life, he sometimes thought. It kept him on course. After Elizabeth’s tragic death, when Tori had been just six months old, the sight had become even more necessary, and even more precious. Sometimes it was the only time in a whole day when there was stillness and quiet.
The time when he wasn’t run off his feet at work, juggling six things at once, always the one people looked to for answers and solutions. When he wasn’t trying to remember the items on the shopping list he’d left at home, or fighting hospital administration over budgets and legal issues. He wasn’t swamped by onslaughts of Tori’s irrepressible exuberance and curiosity.
He didn’t have to say, Sit down at the table, Tori, we don’t stand up on a chair when we eat, or Don’t jump on the couch, love. You’ll break it and you could fall and hit your head on the coffee table, or Time to put your toys away now. Yes, it is, it’s almost bedtime!
Every night when he came into her room before going to bed himself, just to look at the little form tucked under the covers, breathing so deeply and rhythmically and peacefully, he felt a fullness in his chest that was pure love.
He hadn’t thought there could be a stronger or deeper feeling for one’s child. Today, watching her in her white hospital bed in the high-dependency unit, with the summer light still bright and hot in the non-air-conditioned room at the end of the day, he discovered that he’d been wrong. There was a stronger feeling, and it came when love was mixed with fear. It weakened his limbs and made him light-headed and he hated it.
He’d almost lost her today. It reminded him too strongly of the way he’d lost Elizabeth four years ago in a tragic accident which for months had tortured and taunted him with pointless, impotent if onlys. He didn’t think that way about Elizabeth’s death any more.
Or not often, anyway. He’d accepted it.
She had received an invitation from her GP practice partner and his wife to fly with them in their light plane to Tamworth for a weekend of country music, line dancing and outdoor meals. Byron himself had insisted—maybe he’d been too high-handed about it—that she needed a break. She should go and he’d be fine with Tori, who had been a pretty exhausting child even then.
‘I’ll only go if I’ve expressed enough milk, and if we’ve practised with her taking a bottle from you,’ Elizabeth had said.
Don’t think about what would have happened if Tori had refused to take a bottle.
Tori had taken to the bottle with no trouble at all, and so Elizabeth had gone to Tamworth. There had been a mechanical failure. The plane had crashed into the wild country of the Dividing Range, near Barrington Tops. All five people on the aircraft had been killed instantly, but it had taken State Emergency Service volunteers and other rescue workers more than four days to locate the wreckage. When they finally had, it at least had provided a form of certainty and reality to the tragedy.
It had happened.
Now there had been another accident, and there was a new set of if onlys.
If only Elizabeth’s parents hadn’t decided to move north to Queensland to be closer to their other two children. Byron still felt uneasy about their move.
He wondered if Elizabeth’s mother had been unhappy about looking after Tori full time while he was working. If so, she should have said. Had that been the problem? It had seemed so sudden, and their reasons had been vague at best.
He had thought this many times over the past few months, hated this sort of powerless questioning at the best of times. He vastly preferred a situation where he could take action, and where he knew exactly what he was dealing with.
And was he wrong to have returned to Arden? It had seemed like the right thing to do. The obvious thing to do. An action he could take. He’d made his home and his career in Sydney mainly because that had been where Elizabeth had wanted to be. Theirs had been the kind of partnership where both of them had made willing sacrifices.
But then his widowed mother had been keen to see more of him and Tori, and had insisted that she’d be fine looking after her granddaughter while Byron was at work.
‘After all, she’ll be in preschool for three mornings a week this year,’ his mother had said. ‘I’ll get a break. And it’s not as if she’s still a Terrible Two.’
