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After the stretcher cases came the walking wounded, many of them elderly, wandering about the department in a state of total shock. One old lady had a broken collar-bone sticking out from her shoulder, and most had torn clothes and bruised faces and limbs.

Many wouldn't rest until they'd heard about their relatives or friends... 'I can't find my Tom; he was sitting beside me and I blacked out, and when I came to he'd gone.' There was a young man with a broken nose begging for news about his wife... 'She's expecting; she's
eight months! They made me come on here, but she's still in the wreckage! I want to know the minute she gets here, Nurse!'

Finally, at long last, the medical team came back, including Simon. Anna saw him immediately, pushing through a crowd of reporters into the department, whilst behind him the ambulancemen were pulling a stretcher on which lay a shrouded form. They turned into the first empty cubicle, Simon beckoning to Anna. 'Need your help... Girl died in ambulance.. .live baby inside her!'

As he ripped off his tabard and helmet Anna fetched a surgical tray, not that he needed many instruments— not with the mother dead, her face covered, only the huge mound of belly exposed. And how different it was from an ordinary Caesar. The essence of this one was speed.

There was little bleeding when the abdomen was incised and none when the uterus was cut. Only the spurt of amniotic fluid, drenching them, was the same. The child was curled there, already moving. Simon felt for and pulled up the legs, holding the tiny body up-ended whilst he disentangled the cord.

It was a girl-child, and lusty. She began yelling at once as he handed her to Anna, covered in vernix and dark hair plastered down.

Anna soothed and wiped her, and rolled her in a towel after Simon had cut the cord. Sister Forrester appeared, alerted by its cries. 'Dear God, what a business!' She went into the cubicle and came out again. 'Have we a name? Do we know who she is..
.was?
she corrected herself, looking grim.

'There's a husband,' Anna told her, 'with facial injuries, awaiting his turn in Minor Ops. I was speaking to him—his name's Robert Massingham. They've got his details at the Desk.'

'Then I'll have to go and see him, and
now.'
Anita Forrester's eyes closed, then opened again as she turned and made her way to the waiting area outside Minor Ops. Simon, with a staff nurse from Paeds, was tidying the dead woman's body. Anna, with the child quiet now in her arms and trying to nuzzle her breast, took the lift to Baby Care, where she handed the infant to Rose.

Returning to Casualty, she found that many of the more seriously wounded had been passed through to ICU, or were being prepared for surgery. The orthopaedic team were working full out in two of the theatres, whilst nursing staff, orderlies and porters rushed extra beds to the wards.

The police were dealing with the flood of relatives who were converging on the hospital and the switchboard was awash with calls, whilst over the road in the disused Physical Medicine building the hospital administrator was giving out carefully edited data to the clamouring press.

Anna learned from Simon that the young mother who had died and her husband, Robert, had been travelling to Charding to visit his parents for the day. 'They were in the first coach, which had the worst casualties. Eight people were killed in there. She was trapped by the neck when it overturned; he was thrown out. He's got a fractured cheek-bone and septum. I've just broken the news to him, and told him about his child.'

'I expect his parents will come.'

'I'm sure they will.' He flung a swab into a bowl. 'I'll use that silk thread, I think.. .yes, that's the one. You all right, Mr Harris?' He took the threaded needle from Anna. They were stitching the head of an old man who'd been all but scalped by jagged metal. He was due for admission to one of the wards once he'd had his anti-tet.

He was astonishingly calm about his injury. 'I live on my own, you see, so no one to worry about... Makes a difference, dear. I come down here every year for a treat. Charding's a grand place.'

He was wheeled away and after that, amongst all grades of staff—for no one worried about status and protocol at such a crisis time—Simon and Anna worked non-stop, cleaning and stitching wounds, setting up drips, giving injections, binding strains and sprains, taking blood for cross-matching and reuniting frightened children with their parents.

Someone put a mug of tea at Anna's elbow, but she never got round to drinking it. There was too much to do; there was no let-up and yet, amazingly, at a little before two p.m. Accident and Emergency, whilst not clear of casualties, was able to cope with its own on-shift staff again and all 'locums' were released.

'You and I,' Simon said, catching up with Anna when she came out of the washroom, 'are going over to the Taverner for a brandy, and then I'll walk you home.'

'But our cars...' she protested, not very forcibly.

'We'll leave them where they are. I don't have to tell you that we can't drink and drive.'

'I don't like brandy.' She knew she was weakening and she needed company. After the last five shocking hours, to go home alone.. .and there was no one
at
home.. .just wasn't bearable.

'Look upon it as medicinal.' He was steering her out into the yard, where the brightness of the sun made them squint and where the soft, warm breeze blowing in from the sea had a poignant quality, bringing ready tears to her eyes. 'You see what I mean?' He bent over her slightly. 'You need...we
both
need a stiffener, so over the road we go.'

She hadn't even thought about how he was feeling, she realised a few minutes later as she sipped her brandy and felt it hit her throat in a series of bombs. It must have been terrible on that motorway and he'd been one of the first on the scene.

He was a surgeon and well used to blood and guts, but not spilled all over the road. He wasn't used to seeing people trapped in wreckage, nor laying them out on the verge. It was small wonder he looked so gaunt and strained—the little scar to the right of his chin was showing up plainly, as it did when he was disturbed.

They talked about the accident, for to ignore it was impossible. The morning's events were too close for that—they couldn't be pushed away as though they hadn't happened. 'We did a good job,' Simon said presently, staring down into his glass.

'It was incredible how everyone pulled together.' Anna was beginning to feel the effect of the brandy and felt as if she was floating above the bar stool.

'You were rung up at the flat, were you?' she heard Simon ask.

'Yes, I'd only just got out of bed. How about you?'

'Me...? Oh, I was practically hauled in off the street. I was on my way to see Bill in Residents when one of the paramedics hailed me, told me what had happened and I found myself volunteering to go out with the medical team.'

'I saw you getting into the ambulance as I turned into the yard.' Anna was still fighting that floating sensation, trying to ward it off.

'I spotted you—' Simon smiled at her, and she saw his face through a haze '-—when I came in with that poor dead girl. I couldn't believe my luck when I saw you standing there...'

'I was on triage,' she said. 'I'd only just come off it. I wasn't just standing about.' Drink could make one assertive, and she caught his look of surprise.

'Well, whatever it was I was lucky to have you helping me.'

'I didn't do much.' She wasn't convinced.

'You did a very great deal.' He shifted slightly and the side of his hand touched hers on the counter, whilst over its top and behind the barman and behind the row of small bottles at the back, they could see themselves in the mirror running the length of the bar.

We look like a couple, Anna thought, liking what she saw and wanting to keep on looking, but the floating sensation was affecting her vision and everything seemed to blur.

'Anna!' She was aware of Simon swivelling his stool to face her. 'Anna, are you feeling all right?'

'Not really.' She started to giggle, then determinedly made herself stop. 'I'm hung-over, Simon. It's my empty stomach. I've not eaten since seven last night.'

'Great Scott! Why didn't I
think?
He thumped the counter-top. 'I'm afraid they'll have stopped serving lunches now, but we could have a bar snack—a sandwich or a burger—'

'No, thanks, I've had enough of today and I'd rather get home,' she told him bluntly, for it was necessary— in fact, vital—to get away from him fast before she went the whole hog and told him that she loved him.. .yes, loved him,
loved
him.. .and had done so from the day he'd told her that he would trust her with his life. He wouldn't want that—declarations like that would send him running for cover, and fill
her
with embarrassment and mortification when she had to meet him again.

Once out in the street he held her securely by the elbow, just in case, Anna thought wryly, I fall flat on my face—not that there was any danger of that now, for she seemed to have sobered up. The air hadn't made her feel worse but better, and she gratefully drew it in. It was a good idea to
walk
home too; it was good to stride out.

'I expect you want to get home to see as much of your parents as possible while they are here,' Simon remarked as they waited at the pedestrian crossing near the Palace Pier.

'Oh, they're not there. They went back yesterday, taking Prue with them.' Someone trod on the back of Anna's heel and she gave a little yelp.

Simon tightened his grasp on her, saying, way above her head, 'I'm sure it'll help Mrs Gatton to be away for a day or two.'

'Yes, that's what my father thought.'

'I was glad to be able to meet him.' They were crossing the road in a rush, meeting the crowd from the other side.

'Dad's a love; we've always been close,' Anna shouted above the din of a coach unloading its passengers at the kerb. It was then without warning, like a stab in the chest, that her thoughts swung back to this morning's crash when two coaches had been involved; when their passengers, instead of piling out on the sea-front—laughing and ready for fun—had come to Charding by ambulance, and some hadn't reached it at all.

Simon was thinking the same way she was. She could tell that by the way he halted and tensed for a second, then continued to march her on even more quickly, so much so that she felt as if she'd got flying feet. 'Simon, hold on, you've missed the turning,' she managed to say at last.

'Not missed it, passed it,' he informed her tersely, 'which isn't quite the same thing. I'm taking you home to share the lunch Mrs Gill will have left for me. It'll be cold but I can heat up some soup, and before you say no I need company, and I think you do—just for an hour pr two.'

'I'd like that,' she said, and caught the faint look of astonishment on his face before he hurried her on past the Lawns Hotel, and into Andover Square.

It was the third time she had been to his house, and as they turned up the drive Buzz was there to greet Simon with glee and to regard her with his usual look of suspicion and warning.. .touch me if you dare.

They ate cold meats and salad in the little orchard, with a cloth spread on the grass. The patio, in full sun, wasn't restful that afternoon, but under the trees, which filtered the sunlight, all was shaded and cool—a far better option than eating in the house on such a brilliant day.

Perhaps because of the picnic atmosphere and the casual way they ate, with plates on their laps like the day-trippers down on the beach,; there was no tension between them—just contentment and easiness—and Anna rejoiced. We have it in us to heal one another, she thought, and marvelled anew. I can make his fears recede and die, as he can mine.

After they'd eaten he went into the house to make coffee, and it was when he returned—dipping his head under the low-hanging trees—that she sensed a change in him, and in herself. Tiny little spears of panicky excitement were flickering between them, and neither met the other's eyes. Anna found herself holding her breath.

She saw one of the empty cups roll on its side as he set the tray on the ground. He was half turned from her, white shirt strained across his back, but now he was turning and kneeling beside her. 'Anna, darling girl!' He pressed her back, his breath on her face as he unzipped the front of her dress, and, as she cried his name and lifted her arms to pull him on top of her, she saw his need of her dark in his eyes a second before they rolled together. . .grappled together. . .and made love in the grass.

He held her close for a long time afterwards, bringing her back to earth. Then, sitting up, they laughed in wonder, and perhaps in relief. They even drank the neglected coffee, and it tasted ambrosial. 'I'm surprised it's still here!' She had never felt so thirsty in her life.

'We're
still here,' he teased.

'I'm surprised about that as well!'

'I love you, Anna.. .you know that, don't you?'

To hear him say that was bliss. 'I love you too.' She put her head on his shoulder. 'I love you too,' she repeated because it was so good to be able to admit it... It meant so much not to have to turn away, and lie about hating him. This is an affair, she told herself, and we're right at the start of it, and one day he'll end it but I'm glad it's happening; I'll take each day as it comes.

'Will you marry me?' He loosened his hold a little and looked down into her face. 'Darling girl, will you marry me?' he repeated when, at first, she said nothing at all.

'But it's not what you want... You've always said...' Her mouth was agape. He put his finger between her teeth and smiled. 'Seems to me,' he sighed, 'that I said too many things, trying to save my face.

'It wasn't I who felt shackled in marriage, but Caroline. She quickly got bored with being the wife of a junior doctor. I was twenty-four when we got married, and had to work all hours. She was chafing at the bit after the first year, and I quickly realised that I should never have asked her to marry me. I felt it was all my fault.