Her Very Special Boss. Anne Fraser
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‘Someone! Please. Over here!’ Another cry for help, but before Kirsty could react, Greg was already moving. Within seconds he was crouched beside the bus. A moment later he called out, ‘I need assistance over here.’
There was little more Kirsty could do for Maria for the time being. In calm, measured tones she instructed her helper to keep pressure on the wound and, grabbing one of the uninjured passengers, told him to keep the bag of fluid raised. Once she was satisfied that her patient was in capable hands, she hurried over to Greg.
He was kneeling by the side of the bus, his mouth set in a grim line. The upper body of a young woman in her late teens or early twenties was visible from under the bus.
‘This is Lydia,’ Greg told Kirsty tersely. ‘Her right leg is pinned underneath the bus.’
‘I don’t know how I missed her,’ Kirsty said, upset.
‘Hey, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known she was here. We need to give her some morphine and get some fluids into her while we work out how we can get her out.
‘We’re going to give you something for the pain,’ Greg told the frightened young woman, taking a syringe of morphine from Kirsty. ‘We’ll have you out just as soon as we can.’ While Greg administered the pain relief Kirsty set up a drip.
Large brown eyes darted from Greg to Kirsty. ‘My son. I need to find my son. Please.’ Lydia squirmed, trying to pull her leg from under the broken fender.
‘Is your son a toddler of about two? Wearing a blue jumper?’ Kirsty asked.
‘Yes, yes. Did you see him? Is he all right?’
‘He’s perfectly fine. Someone’s looking after him. We’ll bring him over to you once we’ve got you sorted.’
Lydia’s head sank back on the ground. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered gratefully, before closing her eyes.
Kirsty looked at Greg. ‘How are we going to remove her safely?’
‘The pressure from the bus on her leg is probably helping to stem the bleeding.’ Greg said softly, his voice thoughtful. ‘We’ll wait until the ambulance gets here, then we’ll have help to lift the bus. We’ll need to be ready to control the bleeding.’
To Kirsty’s relief, the wailing of sirens signalled the arrival of the ambulances. There were two, each with a paramedic. ‘Tell the paramedics to deal with the injured, but get the drivers over here,’ Greg told Kirsty.
As the paramedics set about seeing to the other patients, the two burly ambulance drivers came over to the wrecked minibus.
‘OK, guys. Once I’m finished here, I need you to lift the bus. Kirsty, you keep the leg stabilised while I pull her out. Watch out for any sudden haemorrhage. It’s quite possible the weight of the bus is preventing us from seeing any big bleeders, but once we lift it, that’s when we’ll know the true extent of her injuries. Get ready to apply pressure.’
Greg knelt and said something to the woman in a language Kirsty didn’t understand. But whatever it was, it seemed to reassure her because she nodded and even managed a small smile.
At Greg’s count of three the two ambulance drivers lifted the minibus, their muscles bunching with the effort. The vehicle was lifted a couple of inches, but it was just enough for Greg to gently pull Lydia out. Once she was clear, the men let the bus drop with gusty sighs of relief.
Although Lydia’s leg was a mess, clearly broken several times with her tibia showing white through her ebony skin, the anticipated spurting that would indicate a torn artery failed to materialise. Kirsty breathed a sigh of relief and bent to cover the wounded leg with padding before stabilising it with one of the inflatable splints the ambulancemen had brought over.
‘The rest of the patients are loaded and ready to go, apart from this one,’ one ambulanceman informed the two doctors. ‘The rest are walking wounded and one of the passers-by will bring them in by car.’
Greg looked at Kirsty and grinned, dimples appearing at either side of his mouth. His smile sent a shiver down her spine ‘Good work. Not bad at all for a city girl.’
Kirsty felt inordinately pleased at his praise but before she could think of a reply he went on, ‘I’ll need to go in the ambulance with the two critical patients. Would you mind driving my car?’
‘Wouldn’t you prefer me to go in the ambulance?’ Kirsty asked.
‘I think you’ve had enough of a baptism by fire for the time being, don’t you? The keys are in my car. Just follow the ambulance,’ he said, continuing to supervise the loading of his patients. ‘The hospital is only a few miles up the road. I’ll see you there.’
Kirsty decided the easiest thing to do was to do as she was told. She hurried over to his Jeep and leapt in. She spent a couple of minutes familiarising herself with the vehicle. She had to move the seat at least a foot forward before she could reach the pedals.
Driving in convoy, they arrived at the hospital as evening descended. Kirsty was oblivious to the setting sun casting its halo of orange rays behind low, distant mountains. Instead, her only thoughts were for the accident victims and the doctor who’d worked so unstintingly to help them. What had caused the scarring on his face? It looked like burns. She had noticed that his right hand was also scarred, although the movement didn’t seem impaired. Despite his rather cool manner, there was something about him that inspired confidence. Kirsty was sure he’d be a patient, if demanding teacher. She knew that if the rest of her new colleagues were half as skilled and dedicated as he was, she was going to find being part of the team an experience she wouldn’t want to miss. For the first time she was really able to believe that coming to Africa might be so much more than simply running away from her past.
When the ambulance doors opened, a squad of staff surged around the injured. There wasn’t time for introductions as Greg barked orders to them, instructing which patients needed to go immediately to Theatre and which required X-rays and tests before a proper diagnosis of the extent of their injuries could be determined.
‘Jamie, take this one will you? Kirsty, give the boy to Sister Shange here. Elspeth, what’s the status of the other casualties?’
‘Would you like me to assist in Theatre?’ Kirsty asked.
Greg stared at her, as if for a moment he couldn’t remember who she was.
‘I think you’ve done enough for the time being. We’ll cope from here on. If you give me a minute, I’ll find someone who can show you to your quarters.’
‘But…’ Kirsty started to protest.
Greg lifted a hand to stem the flow of words. ‘I don’t have time to argue. You don’t know the layout of the department. Right now, we’ve enough staff to help. You’ll only get in the way. Please,’ he added firmly, ‘leave it to us.’ Then he smiled as if to soften his words.
Kirsty glared at him, her eyes flashing. He was treating her like some incompetent medical student.
Greg must have sensed her frustration. He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You did very well back there. Now go get some rest. You’ll be in a better position to help tomorrow.’ He turned his back to her, but not before something in those cool blue eyes told Kirsty it’d be useless to argue further. Reluctantly she looked at his retreating back.
* * *
Later that night as Greg wrote up his notes, he thought about Kirsty. The image of her standing before him in his bloodstained shirt and the short skirt which did nothing to hide her long slim legs kept intruding on his thoughts. She was undeniably attractive with her thick auburn hair escaping from her ponytail and her elfin face with those flashing green eyes. Although on the surface she appeared sophisticated, there was something vulnerable about her—and it wasn’t just her age. He cursed under his breath. She had only been qualified for a couple of years. Despite the way she had performed at the accident scene, she was still far too inexperienced