Worth the Risk (14 page)

‘Lie down! Stop running,’ she yelled, knowing that in his panic he was fanning the flames. He obviously couldn’t hear her, and she ran as fast as she could until the breath tore in her throat and pain stabbed her chest. As she drew closer she ripped off her coat, ready to fling it on him, but Sean was there before her.

With a neat rugby tackle he floored the panicking youngster and wrapped him in his jacket, using his hands to beat out the rest of the flames. The boy was still screaming, but the sound was thinner and his eyes were glassy as he stared up at them, his face scorched and blackened.

‘Call an ambulance!’ Ally snapped at the gathering crowd, and she looked frantically at Sean. ‘His clothes are still smouldering. We need to get them off.’

Sean was already removing the charred remains of the boys jacket, and started to gently remove his shirt.

‘Get some cold water quickly.’ He glanced up at a hovering Red Cross volunteer, who rose to the challenge and sprinted in the direction of the refreshment tent.

‘And clingfilm,’ Ally called after her, catching Sean’s brief nod of approval as together they removed the last piece of charred clothing.

‘Good thinking,’ he murmured, glancing into the crowd that had gathered. ‘We need some gear here. Jack?’

‘I’m here.’ Jack hurried forward, his face drawn and anxious. ‘What do you need?’

‘Morphine, oxygen and equipment to intubate,’ Ally listed quickly, reaching out to grab the stethoscope Will was proffering. ‘Thanks!’

‘We need to estimate the surface area and get some fluid into him.’ Sean reached out to take the cold water and gently cooled the remaining pieces of charred clothing which could not be removed.

Ally quickly examined the boy, using the rule of nines to calculate how much of the skin was affected. ‘Well, it’s most of the front, part of the left arm, part of the left leg and part of the back—probably about 28 per cent. Do you agree?’

Sean examined the boy briefly and nodded. ‘Looks about right. Mostly full thickness. Let’s give him something for the pain quickly.’

Jack handed Ally a box of equipment and she delved into it quickly, removing a large-bore cannula which she deftly inserted into a vein while Sean sorted out the pain relief.

Ally heard the shriek of the ambulance siren and exchanged a look with Sean. ‘Thank goodness.’

He nodded. ‘Yes. This chap needs hospital help fast. How are his lungs?’

Ally used Will’s stethoscope, listening carefully for signs that the smoke or flames had affected his lungs. ‘They’re clear, actually.’

Sean raked a hand through his hair and let out a breath. ‘Thank goodness. OK, let’s wrap up these burns and get some fluid into him.’

‘How much do you reckon he weighs?’ Ally frowned down at the boy, measuring with her eyes. ‘Isn’t there anyone with him?’

‘Doesn’t seem to be. The lads are still asking around.’ Jack was by her side, waiting for more instructions. ‘What do you need?’

‘A pen and paper to calculate the fluid replacement…’ Sean stood up and rubbed his dark jaw. ‘Unless you’ve got a calculator?’

‘We have.’ Daniel, the paramedic, sprinted back to the ambulance and returned seconds later. ‘It’s solar powered so you’ll have to stick it under the torch.’

‘Thanks.’ Sean tapped some figures into the calculator, narrowing his eyes at Ally. ‘What do you reckon? Twenty-eight per cent multiplied by his body weight…’

‘He must be about 58 kilos,’ Ally guessed, and Sean nodded.

‘Sounds about right. OK…’ He tapped again and calculated the volume of fluid. ‘Right—he needs that within four hours so I’ll scribble it all down for the hospital.’

Ally jabbed a giving set into the first bag of fluid and attached it to the line in the boy’s arm. Then between them they gently wrapped his body in clingfilm to prevent fluid loss and protect the burns, before covering him up to keep him warm.

‘Is one of you coming with us?’ Daniel pulled the stretcher next to the boy and Sean glanced at Ally with a wry grin.

‘My turn, I think. You stay with your daughter.’

She frowned and reached for his right hand which was blackened and sore, turning it over to examine it. ‘This doesn’t look too healthy. You need to get it seen while you’re there.’

In the urgency of the situation she’d forgotten that he’d used his own hands to beat out the last of the flames.

Sean removed his hand from hers and grimaced. ‘It hurts like hell so it can’t be serious.’

Like him, Ally knew that very serious burns ceased to hurt because of damage to the nerve endings. If Sean could feel his hands then the chances were that the burns were fairly superficial.

‘I’d better go. Jack can give you a lift. Will said he’d run my car back when he’s finished here, so I’ll see you later.’ He gave her a brief nod and climbed into the ambulance which drove away as fast as the field and the crowd allowed.

By the time she’d collected Charlie, talked to Will and nabbed a lift home from Jack, it was getting late and she was tired. Fortunately Charlie was, too, and the bedtime routine was completed in record time, leaving her to collapse on one of the huge, squashy sofas which sat on either side of her fireplace. She stared into the flames, thinking first of the boy and his burns and then Mary Thompson. Poor Mary. No wonder she was in a state and worrying about her husband. If the Thompsons weren’t able to come up with a solution themselves, she’d give Mary a ring to discuss possible options.

The wheels of a car crunched on the gravel outside the barn and she sprinted to the door and tugged it open, biting her lip as she saw Sean climb out.

‘Are you OK? What happened?’

Sean shrugged and paid the taxi driver, his breath clouding the cold night air. ‘They’re going to transfer him to the burns unit but he’s in a pretty bad way. He’s going to be in for a lot of operations, grafting those burns.’

Ally stood back to let him in, frowning slightly as she saw how white and drawn he looked.

‘You look really tired. Come in and sit down for a moment.’

He raised an eyebrow, his expression wry. ‘I thought I wasn’t the flavour of the month.’

‘That’s just when you behave like a caveman.’ Ally gave him a tentative smile, feeling suddenly awkward. ‘When you’re tired and vulnerable you’re OK.’

Sean deposited his length on the sofa and closed his eyes with a groan. ‘Well, I’m certainly OK, then. God, I feel awful.’

‘They’ve dressed your hand.’

Sean gave a short laugh and studied the plastic bag over his hand. ‘Practical, isn’t it? How on earth am I going to see patients with my arm in a bin liner?’

‘Don’t exaggerate.’ Ally put another log on the fire and turned to find him watching her intently. Her heart missed a beat. ‘Did they smother it in Flamazine?’

‘Definitely.’ Sean examined it with wry humour. ‘If any bug enters this bag it will be instantly zapped.’

Ally settled herself down in front of the fire, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the flames.

‘You won’t need it for long and you don’t need to do practical things. You can just talk to the patients.’

‘Oh, great!’ He shrugged himself further into the sofa and stretched out his legs. ‘Sorry, Mrs Smith, I can’t examine you because I’ve got a bag on my hand.’

Ally bit her lip. ‘You were very brave.’

He raised an eyebrow and laughed. ‘Well, if I hadn’t done it, you would have so I thought I’d better get there first.’

Despite their earlier row, she had to laugh, too. ‘Protecting me again?’

‘Isn’t that what a man’s supposed to do to his woman?’

Her heart stumbled in her chest. ‘I’m not your woman.’

‘Give me time.’ His voice was husky and she shook her head slowly, every nerve in her body tingling.

‘You just don’t take no for an answer, do you?’

‘Never.’ His gaze was disconcertingly intense and she blushed awkwardly, picking at a piece of fluff on the rug. Maybe it would help if she changed the subject.

‘Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?’

‘Very.’ His eyes settled on her mouth and then lifted to her face. ‘Very hungry.’

Suddenly breathing seemed like hard work. ‘You know what I meant…’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh and rose to his feet. ‘I don’t need food if that’s what you’re offering. I need my bed. Preferably with you in it.’

A vision of what it would be like to be in bed with him floated through her brain. ‘Sean—’

‘Come with me.’ His voice was husky and he held his good hand, the message in his eyes quite clear.

‘I can’t.’

He reached down and pulled her to her feet. ‘Yes, you can.’

‘No.’

He lowered his head, his mouth tantalisingly close to hers. ‘Yes…’

The anticipation of his kiss was almost too much, so that when it came she gave a cry of relief and opened her mouth under the pressure of his. This time he kissed her slowly and gently, without the desperate intensity of their previous encounter, but the effect on her highly tuned senses was the same. His tongue seduced hers with a wicked skill until she gave a little cry and struggled to get closer to him. His good arm clamped her against him and she lifted her hands to his hard chest, feeling the strength there before slipping her arms up over the broad shoulders and round his neck.

His muffled curse made her step back, her head swimming and her breathing uneven as she watched him rub his injured hand ruefully. Dear God, what was she doing? How could she say no to a man and then kiss him like that?

‘On second thoughts, maybe I will go to bed alone.’ Sean brushed her lower lip with his thumb, his smile wry as he glanced at his injured hand. ‘When I make love to you I want to have two hands to do it.’

Ally should have been protesting again, denying that it would ever happen, but after the way he’d just made her feel she wasn’t capable of saying anything, let alone what she should be saying. So instead she just stood there, her eyes confused, and let him walk away.

* * *

The first thing Ally did on Monday morning was to phone Mr Gordon about Jenny Monroe’s leg, and was relieved to find him as helpful as she remembered from previous referrals.

‘I removed the whole lesion. As you know, the Breslow thickness is still the most useful single indicator of prognosis and Jenny’s tumour had only just started to invade the dermis.’ The Breslow thickness measured how deeply the tumour had spread into the skin, and it seemed that Jenny’s had been removed before it started invading the fatty layer.

Ally tapped her pen on the desk and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘So that’s good news, then, isn’t it?’

‘Absolutely.’ The consultant sounded as pleased as she felt. ‘Obviously I need to follow her up to keep an eye on the scar, and she needs periodic total skin examinations to check for further primary lesions, but basically she should be fine.’

Ally grinned down the phone. ‘Thanks, Mr Gordon—I’m so relieved for her.’

He gave a soft laugh. ‘Me, too. She’s a nice lady.’

Ally replaced the phone and called Jenny immediately, simplifying what the plastic surgeon had said but making it clear that the tumour had been caught very early.

When she was satisfied that Jenny understood the situation and had been reassured, she buzzed through to Helen to let her know she was ready to start her surgery.

‘Mr Thompson is here to see you,’ Helen’s voice came through the intercom. ‘Your nine o’clock isn’t here yet—can you see him now?’

So he’s decided to do something about it, Ally thought, her heart lifting for Mary. ‘Yes, send him in.’

Geoff Thompson entered, looking desperately uncomfortable and embarrassed, and more than a little peaky.

‘Hello, Mr Thompson.’ Ally gave him a quiet smile and gestured for him to sit down.

‘I can’t believe you can still manage to smile at me after what I did,’ he mumbled, rubbing his lined forehead with his large hands.

‘You need help, Mr Thompson,’ Ally said gently, ‘and I assume that’s why you’re here.’

‘Mary and I talked all Sunday. I’ve never done it before, you know.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘Never. I’ve never hit Mary before. Oh, I’ve been drunk more than I can remember but I’ve never hit her. I’m just not like that…’

Ally reached forward and touched his hand, anxious to reassure him and build a relationship. ‘I believe you, Mr Thompson. Alcohol can make you do all sorts of things that are out of character. We need to talk about what we can do together to solve the problem.’

Geoff Thompson shook his head. ‘I’ve been drinking too much for years, you know. It started socially—I have to drink really as part of my job. You know the score, Dr McGuire—clients, conferences. Before you know it you’re drinking regularly every day and the amounts get larger and larger.’

‘What do you usually drink?’

He shrugged. ‘Wine with meals, spirits in the bar, spirits after a meal.’

Gently Ally probed, delving into his drinking history, finding out when it had started, whether he’d ever tried to cut down or stop, whether he used any other substances.

‘I suppose I don’t eat properly any more,’ he admitted, his expression bleak. ‘At least not when I’m working. Mary always has a meal waiting for me at home but, then, she’s a wife in a million.’

Ally made a few notes on her pad. ‘She’s very worried about you.’

‘I’ve let her down so badly.’ Suddenly Geoff buried his face in his hands and gave way to tearing sobs. ‘I’ve made such a mess of things. She was so proud of me. So proud.’

‘She’s still proud,’ Ally said firmly, a lump starting in her throat. Poor man. What a mess! ‘Just wait one minute, Mr Thompson, while I make a quick call.’

She buzzed through to Helen and quietly asked her to reassign her next three patients to the other partners and bring in some tea.

‘Now, listen, we’re going to sort this out, Geoff, I promise you that.’ She used his first name on purpose, thinking that he needed that extra friendliness. ‘But you are going to have to help.’

Geoff rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath, thoroughly embarrassed. ‘I’ll do anything—I’m so sorry to break down…’

Ally shook her head. ‘There’s absolutely no need to apologise. Now, this is what we’re going to do.’ She broke off as Helen entered with the tea, handing Geoff a mug and waiting while he took a few sips. Once Helen had left the room Ally returned to the conversation.