The Doctor & the Runaway Heiress

by Marion Lennox

  ‘I know the basics,’ he said. ‘Quick run-through?’

  See one, do one, teach one? Pippa had to choke back a hysterical laugh. Surely this was the mantra at its most dangerous. Harry and Riley had spent a couple of hours teaching her about winching. They’d intended to do more with her but that initial teaching was all she had.

  So she’d seen one. She was about to do one. Her life, and Riley’s and Mickey’s, depended on her teaching one as well.

  But needs must and it all flooded back to her, the mantra Riley had drilled in. Steadiness, keeping control at all times, watching the wind, being ready to re-winch at any moment, watching for sway, safety, safety, safety.

  The sergeant was good, calm and unflappable, or maybe he was as good at hiding panic as she was. By the time Harry had the chopper centred again over Riley and the child below, he was behind the winch, putting his hand on her shoulder as if it was she who was the trainee.

  Maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding panic as she’d thought.

  ‘You can do it, girl,’ the big policeman said, calmly and steadily. ‘We know you can. Pom, aren’t you? Never mind, even if you guys are hopeless at cricket, I reckon you can do this. You can sing “Rule Britannia” all the way down.’

  She almost laughed.

  But then she was slipping out of the chopper, her feet were no longer touching anything and she was heading down to Riley. She was no longer even close to laughing.

  The last time she’d hung above the sea her life was being saved. Now…

  Concentrate. Do not sway. Hold yourself firm, steady; Harry and the sergeant can only do so much, you have to do the rest. Head straight down.

  Riley was below her.

  Down, down-and he caught her. A wave washed over the rock as she landed and she gasped with the shock of the cold water-but Riley had her, holding her, steadying her.

  ‘It’s okay. You’re safe, Pippa. But Mickey’s not and we need to work fast.’ He shone the flashlight down and she could see a shock of red hair, a child crumpled into an impossibly narrow crevice.

  ‘Mickey,’ Riley called, and there was no response.

  ‘I can’t get down to him and he’s drowning,’ Riley said, and she heard the desperation in his voice. The water from the last wave was being sucked out of the crevice now. How far had it come up?

  ‘I’m watching the sea. At the next break you go down head first with me holding your feet,’ Riley said. ‘You’ll still wear the harness. If the crevice is too tight or another wave comes then I pull you straight out-this isn’t about losing you as well. You get the harness under his shoulders or you grab him any way you can and then you get out of there. Old surf mantra-every seventh wave is a biggie, and it seems to be working. Straight after the next biggie and you’re down.’

  They were working as he spoke, adjusting her harness. He was looping ropes around her waist and shoulders, tying them so he had a rope on either side of her.

  ‘Wait,’ he said as she stooped, and it nearly killed her to wait-and it nearly killed him as well.

  Then, as the next big wave struck, he held her tight, hard against him, so the wave couldn’t move them. His body gave her courage. He gave her courage.

  The wave rocked them, filled the crevice, and she thought, Mickey, Mickey…

  The wave sucked out again. Deep breath. And then… Riley gave her a hard, swift kiss as the water cleared from around their legs. The kiss was a blessing.

  Then she was on her knees, stooping, leaning in…

  Letting go.

  Riley held her. Her hands touched the side of the crevice, feeling her way straight down. Hauling herself in. She couldn’t worry about the waves-that was Riley’s lookout.

  She trusted him.

  It was so tight-she had to hunch her shoulders as hard as she could to squeeze down.

  She had no room to work with a torch and her body blocked the light.

  Her hands touched Mickey’s hair. She pushed herself further down, fighting to get a hold on his shoulders. He was crammed in hard. Maybe he’d wriggled to get out, wedging himself in further.

  ‘Mickey…’

  No response. He’d have been under water, over and over.

  His shoulders were hunched forward like hers. In front of his clavicle… a tiny amount of wriggle room.

  She got her hands down under, gripping like death.

  She couldn’t fasten a rope. No room. She grabbed handfuls of his windcheater and tugged. He didn’t move. She firmed her hold.

  ‘Pull,’ she yelled at Riley, and he pulled and the child shifted. If she could hold him…

  She couldn’t, he was too heavy, the grip of the rocks too great. But he was up far enough now for her to get a harness around him. Sort of.

  She was holding and tying, keeping the deadweight steady, and if anyone asked her afterwards how she’d done it, she could never tell them. She didn’t know.

  All she knew was that she wasn’t letting go. If the water came in now she was still holding on for dear life.

  The water did come in, but not enough to reach her, not enough either to cover Mickey’s head, not now she’d tugged him a little higher. Oh, but he was so limp.

  She couldn’t think that. She could only think harness.

  She had him. She was fastened to Riley. Mickey was fastened to her. They were going to have to rise as one. If Mickey came out without support… if his head fell sideways and caught… if another wave twisted him…

  There was no winch on top. Only Riley. Would he have the strength?

  Like her, he had no choice.

  ‘Pull,’ she yelled, and she felt her harness tighten. She held to Mickey for dear life. His harness held…

  And she felt the rocks release them.

  She came free just as another wave hit. She hauled Mickey up and they were out. Riley was holding her, holding Mickey, they were falling backwards against the rocks, simply holding until the sucking power of the wave eased.

  And the moment it did Riley was working on Mickey.

  There was no room for the niceties of a mask. ‘Breathe for him,’ he snapped as he set Mickey down on the highest piece of rock so they could work on him. ‘I’m on chest and wave watching.’

  He still had to watch the sea. If another wave hit, they’d have to stop to hold on. There was no point in getting Mickey breathing again if they were all to be washed back into the waves.

  So Riley watched the sea but still he worked, compressing his chest as steadily as if he was in the emergency department of her training hospital. All his focus was on the little boy’s chest.

  She checked Mickey’s airway again-she’d done a fast check and given him a quick first breath as they’d come out of the crevice but now she had time to be careful. She breathed.

  If Riley could be steady, so could she. If Riley wasn’t panicking, neither would she.

  She had her fingers on the boy’s carotid artery. Feeling desperate.

  A pulse?

  It was barely there but she was sure she’d felt it.

  ‘Pulse. Don’t even think about stopping,’ she told Riley, but he barely acknowledged her. He kept working. When the next big wave hit they worked as one, lifting the child, holding him high, bracing themselves against the rock. Pippa kept on breathing as much as she could. Riley’s chest compressions were more hugs during the worst of the wave. As the wave receded Mickey was down on the ledge again and they kept right on.

  And then… the little boy stirred. His chest heaved.

  He took a gasping, searing gulp of air, and Riley had him on his side in an instant.

  He was horribly, wonderfully sick.

  And then, amazingly, he started to cry.

  Pippa was beside him, on the rock, her face almost touching his. She held him tight as the water washed over the rock’s surface. She was making sure his airway wasn’t blocked. This time the wave wasn’t high enough to be threatening.

  How could anything threaten them now?

 
‘You’re safe, Mickey,’ she said, holding him close as his retching eased. ‘Doc Riley’s come in his helicopter and we’ve rescued you. Your mum and dad are on the top of the cliff. The helicopter’s lowering a stretcher right now so we can pull you up. How cool to tell the kids at school you were rescued with a helicopter? You just stay still and let me hold you until we get you back to your mum.’

  She was amazing.

  Pippa…

  Riley stood back as Mickey was embraced by his family. He’d done what needed to be done. Mickey’s airway was clear, he had oxygen flowing-he was conscious and lucid so there appeared to be no long-term threat from his near drowning. He had a fractured arm and maybe further fractures to his pelvis and ribs but nothing life-threatening. The painkillers were taking effect. He was almost managing to smile.

  His mother was holding his good hand and she didn’t look like she’d let go any time soon.

  His father was hugging Pippa. He didn’t look like he was letting go any time soon either. He was sobbing and Pippa was holding him tight, cradling him like she’d cradled Mickey down on the ledge. Soon Riley needed to work on him-he was sure the guy’s ankle was fractured-but the man wasn’t worried about his own pain. He was only worried about his son.

  ‘It’s okay. He’s safe,’ Pippa told him.

  ‘If not for you… I don’t know how we can thank you.’

  ‘Hey, Doc Riley held my legs and watched the waves. It’s Riley who’s the hero. Plus my gym back in England. How cool that I lost a little weight for my wedding?’ She set him back a little, smiling. ‘Happy endings. I love ’em. By the way, did you guys catch any fish?’

  ‘I… Yes.’ The paramedics were loading Mickey into the ambulance. Riley was helping, but Pippa’s conversation had him distracted.

  ‘How many?’ Pippa demanded, and Riley blinked. He was thinking of giving the guy some morphine; Pippa was thinking about fish?

  ‘We caught three,’ the man managed.

  ‘What sort?’

  ‘Whiting.’

  ‘Oh, yum, are these them?’ She seized a fishing basket and peered inside.

  ‘Yes, they are,’ the man said, and Riley realised what Pippa was doing. She was dragging him back from the nightmare into a fragment of reality.

  Mickey’s mother was holding Mickey. The paramedics were making sure he was immobilised for the journey. Riley had his pain under control; there was a moment for normality to resurface and Pippa was making the most of it.

  ‘I guess you guys won’t be eating fish for tea tonight,’ she said, sounding suddenly wistful. And a little bit cheeky. ‘What with having to sit around hospitals waiting for Mickey to get a cast. And you might need one on your foot. That’ll take ages. I guess you’ll have to eat dinner at the hospital cafeteria.’

  The man took a deep breath. He looked at his wife and son. He looked at his other kids-three littlies being held by someone who might be an aunt. He looked back at Pippa.

  He looked at his fish and Riley saw the instant when nightmare moved to thought. Pippa had found her reality.

  ‘Would you like a fish?’ the man asked.

  ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said, and she chuckled.

  She was incorrigible, Riley thought. She was soaking wet-how she wasn’t shivering was a wonder. There was an ugly graze on the side of her face where she’d thumped against the rock on the way up or down. Her knuckles had lost skin.

  Her hair was dripping wetly down her back. She looked about ten years old.

  But her smile was enough to make anyone smile. To make anyone’s nightmares recede.

  He’d been comparing her to Marguerite? He was out of his mind.

  ‘You can have all three,’ the fisherman said, handing over his basket. ‘They’re great fish.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Oh, and I have a huge family I can feed them to,’ Pippa said, beaming, gathering them to her like gold. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘You saved my son.’

  ‘And you gave me fish.’ She kissed the guy, lightly on the cheek. ‘It looks like Mickey’s ready to go. Let Doc Riley check your foot and then into the ambulance with you. Oh, and do your fishing a hundred feet from the edge from now on.’

  ‘I’m buying my fish from the fish and chip shop,’ he growled-but the man was smiling. Everyone was smiling. Everyone had heard the interchange. Even Mickey…

  ‘So can we buy shop chips?’ the little boy ventured, and his mother burst into tears. But she was smiling through her tears.

  ‘Happy endings,’ Pippa said in satisfaction, heading back to the chopper with her haul of fish. ‘I love ’em.’

  And when the ambulance moved away, as their chopper rose, she made Riley leave the slide open. She kept her harness on. They rose and she leaned out as far as Riley permitted.

  She had a fish in each hand and she waved goodbye with fish.

  Cheering.

  Then she settled back into the chopper with her basket of fish on her knee. And beamed.

  And Riley…

  The armour he’d surrounded himself with for years, the protective barriers which let him want no one, need no one, were gone.

  Pippa.

  She could have drowned.

  He was totally exposed.

  She was taking her fish home to her family, Riley thought, dazed. Her family.

  That would be Amy and Jason and Baby Riley. And Lucy and Adam.

  And him?

  Yeah. Tonight it would be him.

  There was no way he was not being part of those fish.

  Mickey was being taken by road to Sydney. He’d need specialist orthopaedic care so there was no medical need for either Riley or Pippa to stay involved. Harry started his routine check of the chopper. Riley and Pippa walked back to the house. They needed a shower. They needed a change of clothes. They also needed to talk, Riley thought, but he didn’t know where to start.

  What had just happened?

  He’d lowered a slip of a girl into a chasm and he hadn’t known if they could all survive. As simple as that. If the sea had turned on them…

  There’d been no choice. The alternative had been impossible to contemplate-to leave Mickey to drown. But he’d had to ask Pippa to risk her life and she’d come up laughing.

  She’d come up talking of fish and of family.

  He was feeling like he’d shed something he’d barely known he had. He felt light and free and… bewildered.

  He was carrying her fish. He was caught up in his thoughts, so it was Pippa who saw Amy first. She paused and looked across as Amy yelled wildly from the veranda.

  ‘Will you two hurry up? We’re having a baby.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THEY were indeed having a baby. Lucy was crouched like an animal in pain on the living-room settee. She moaned as they arrived, a deep, primeval moan that told Pippa they were deep into first stage.

  ‘How far apart?’ she asked Amy. There was no use asking Lucy anything for the moment.

  ‘Two minutes,’ Amy said. ‘And she won’t go to hospital. She’s scared. She just wants you guys. Gee, I’m pleased to see you.’

  ‘But Amy’s fantastic.’ Adam looked terrified but he gave Amy a sheepish smile as Lucy’s moan trailed away. ‘She’s real bossy.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I know what to do,’ Amy said.

  See one, do one, teach one. Pippa almost grinned. Then she glanced at Riley and her grin died. He looked like she never wanted a support person to look. Fear was infectious. What was he doing, with a face as grim as death?

  ‘We need to get you to hospital,’ he told his daughter as the contraction eased and her body slumped. ‘No argument. I’ll phone Louise and take you now.’

  ‘Hey, how about, “Hi, Lucy, great to see you, we brought you some fish?”’ Pippa demanded, astonished. The last thing Lucy needed was an implication of fear from her doctor.

  But, then, she thought, Riley wasn’t Lucy’s doctor. Riley was Luc
y’s dad. Maybe terror was understandable.

  So maybe someone else had to take charge.

  The contraction was easing. Lucy looked up from the settee and gave them a wavering smile. ‘Fish?’ she managed.

  ‘Three beauties,’ Pippa said, deciding normal was the way to go. Who needed panic? ‘Your dad and I caught them from the helicopter. Sort of. While you’ve been having fun here. But now we’re here… Okay, fish aside, it looks like baby’s next.’

  She gave Riley a sideways glance, trying to figure what to do for the best. He looked under such strain… He’d want Louise, but most obstetricians only worked in hospitals. To have Louise take on her care, that’s where they had to go.

  ‘Lucy, love, why don’t you want to go to hospital? It’s two minutes away.’

  ‘I’m not going to hospital,’ Lucy said, in a voice where the fear came through. ‘Please. I don’t want to. This feels like family. You guys can deliver babies. I don’t want my legs in stirrups.’

  Where had she learned about stirrups? The internet, Pippa thought, or old documentaries, pictures of labour wards where obstetricians put their patients in stirrups in second stage as a matter of course.

  ‘Why can’t I stay here?’ Lucy wailed, and grabbed Adam’s hand and held it like she was drowning. ‘I don’t want to do this. I’m so scared. I want to go home.’

  ‘To England?’ Adam sounded terrified. ‘We can’t.’

  ‘I won’t go to hospital. Dad’ll help.’

  ‘Lucy, I’m your father. I can’t be your doctor.’

  ‘Lucy’s not asking you to be her doctor,’ Pippa said, figuring she had no choice but to intervene. Riley sounded strained to the limit.

  He was right. He was Lucy’s father. That had to be his role. Nothing more. But Lucy also needed a professional.

  That would be her.

  ‘You all know I’m a trained midwife,’ she said, speaking more confidently than she felt. ‘The checks Lucy did with Louise on Wednesday showed no problems. Everything’s beautifully normal. Lucy, you’re delivering a week early but that’s fine. I suggest we let Louise know what’s happening in case we need back-up. Then we settle down here, with all of us supporting you every step of the way. But if you get exhausted, or if there are signs that your baby’s exhausted, then we take you to the hospital straight away and Louise takes over. That has to be the deal. Do you agree?’