The Doctor and the Princess

by Scarlet Wilson

  She headed for the door as thoughts flooded through her head. Burns. Sullivan was a surgeon. After working in Helmand Province he was bound to have experience with explosive injuries and burns.

  She spun around. ‘Someone find Sullivan. Tell him I’ll need his assistance.’

  Franz put down the phone. ‘Princess Gabrielle?’

  She was already walking back out the door but something about his anxious tone stopped her. ‘What?’

  ‘Dr Darcy. He’s already there.’

  ‘He’s what?’

  Franz gulped. ‘He’s helping co-ordinate the rescue effort.’

  * * *

  She didn’t wait for a driver. She got into the nearest palace car and just floored it. At least she tried to. Arun stepped out dead centre in front of the car as she reached the palace gates.

  ‘Move!’ she screamed.

  He calmly walked around to the driver’s side. ‘Move over,’ he replied smoothly.

  She blinked, then took a deep breath and moved over. He slid into the driver’s seat and drove down the mountain as if an avalanche was chasing them. But Arun had the skill and expertise to handle the car at speed.

  He pressed a button on the steering wheel, connected to his control room, and spoke in rapid French. A few seconds later, another voice came on the line. It took Gabrielle a few seconds to realise who it was. By the time she did, Arun had disconnected.

  They reached the bottom of the mountain and, instead of turning right, towards the diamond mine, he turned left.

  ‘Where are we going?’ shouted Gabrielle. ‘People need help.’ She could hear the sound of sirens in the distance. ‘Was that Sullivan on the phone?’ Her brain was still trying to fathom how fluent his French had been.

  Arun made the next corner on practically two wheels. ‘We’re not going to the mine. We’re going to St George’s.’

  ‘St George’s?’ She was confused. It was one of the most prestigious hospitals in Mirinez—mainly for private patients. From what she could remember, it did have a fully functioning small emergency department that treated private patients.

  ‘Why are we going there?’

  Arun glanced at her as they turned down the main road towards the hospital. ‘Because apparently Sullivan has taken over.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SPEAKING NUMEROUS LANGUAGES in Mirinez was definitely a bonus. So far he’d used French, Italian, German, English and a smattering of Chinese.

  He didn’t normally contemplate the big picture—but fate had certainly played a part in his being there.

  His reluctant security host Mikel had shown him St George’s Hospital and introduced him to the director only an hour earlier. The director had made a few casual enquiries about Sullivan’s availability as a surgeon and his areas of expertise. What he hadn’t expected was for Sullivan to turn up two hours later with a number of casualties from the mine blast.

  Mikel, who had spent most of the morning growling at Sullivan and giving one-syllable answers to his questions, had been surprisingly smart when they’d first heard the explosion.

  The ground had shaken underneath them as they’d stood in the car park.

  Sullivan had moved right into combat mode. ‘What’s that? Where did that come from?’

  Mikel had looked around for a few seconds. ‘It must be the mine.’

  Sullivan had sped back into the hospital and shouted to the director, ‘I need a bag for emergency supplies. We think something’s happened at the mine.’

  He hadn’t waited. He’d moved through the department he’d just been shown around and started grabbing gloves, wound pads, saline and everything else he could lay his hands on. The director had hesitated for a second, then shouted to another member of staff as he’d watched the pile on the trolley grow. Sullivan glanced over his shoulder. ‘Do you have ambulances you can send? And give me a couple of members of staff too.’

  It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Military mode had washed back over him like an old familiar blanket, and thankfully no one had argued. A few minutes later he’d had a bag of supplies and a nurse in the back of the car as Mikel sped towards the mine.

  The main gates were wide open. Smoke was spiralling into the sky. People were running everywhere. There was a huge cloud of choking dust hanging in the air.

  It only took a few seconds for Sullivan to surmise who was supposed to be in charge. He ran over to a man in a bright yellow fluorescent jacket. ‘Sullivan Darcy, doctor. Where do you need me?’ He repeated it in French and Italian and the man replied quickly.

  ‘Over there,’ he said, pointing to a large grey cabin. ‘That’s where the casualties are coming up.’

  ‘Who is bringing them up?’

  ‘The other miners.’

  ‘Are there still casualties below ground?’

  He nodded. Sullivan thought quickly. ‘Ambulances are on their way. I’ll triage those in the cabin. Get a report from the mine. If they need medical assistance down there, I can go.’

  He moved quickly. The cabin was obviously used for occasional first aid and minor injuries but the first-aid kit must have been used up within seconds of seeing the first casualties. He kept the nurse next to him. She was used to working in a calm hospital environment and he’d obviously taken her well out of her comfort zone. But to her credit she was cool and efficient.

  There were a huge variety of injuries—penetrating wounds, head and eye injuries, breathing difficulties, a few obvious broken bones. But the majority of injuries were burns—something he specialised in. It didn’t help that every single patient was covered in a layer of smudged dust.

  He threw some bags of saline at the nurse. ‘We need to try and keep things clean. Irrigate everything that’s burned. Remove any clothing or jewellery if you can do it without causing any damage. See if the kitchen has cling wrap. If they do, just put a clean layer across any burn. And keep the burn victims warm—ask for blankets. We don’t want them becoming hypothermic. If anyone has a penetrating injury, look at it and patch it. If anyone’s bleeding profusely, give me a shout. Triage One, Two and Three. One for the people who need to go to hospital first. Two for those who also need to go but aren’t in immediate danger. Three for those who can wait for a limited period.’

  She nodded and got to work. Mikel appeared at his side. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  Sullivan paused only for a second. ‘I’m either going to ask you to transport some patients who are stable, or to come down the mine with me. What’s your preference?’

  Mikel gave a quick nod. ‘Wherever you need me.’

  Sullivan smiled. He hadn’t given Mikel enough credit. He suspected he was a former soldier too—he was obviously a team player. He hadn’t panicked when the explosion had happened, and he was happy to take direction and go where he was needed. This man wasn’t scared.

  Ten minutes later, when he and Mikel descended into the mine, along with one of the engineers, he was glad of the company. Four men were trapped by falling rocks and equipment. No one had known if it was safe to move them to pull them out from where they were trapped and Sullivan and the engineer did a quick assessment of each casualty. Two were able to be slid out slowly once the debris above them had been removed or propped up.

  Another was more complicated. He had a serious penetrating wound and burns. By that time, more emergency services had arrived and Sullivan must have used seven bags of saline to saturate wounds, as well as putting in lines to increase fluids and administer some pain relief.

  Half an hour later the ambulance he was in pulled up outside St George’s. Gabrielle was standing, waiting, in the ambulance bay wearing an apron and gloves. She pulled back as she saw him. ‘Where have you been?’

  He looked down. Every part of his clothes was covered in dust. He reached up and wiped his for
ehead, leaving his hand covered in a sooty black mess. He shrugged. ‘Down the mine.’

  She shook her head and moved into professional mode. ‘What have you got?’

  He jumped out and pulled the gurney. ‘Rufus Bahn, miner. Serious penetrating chest injury.’

  She pointed straight ahead. ‘The resus room is waiting—once you’ve washed.’

  He nodded and walked quickly. Gabrielle’s hair was pulled up in a ponytail on the top of her head. She had on a dress and a pair of strange clogs. She caught him staring and shrugged. ‘I didn’t have time to change. One of the nurses loaned me her spare shoes.’

  Two nurses were waiting in the resus room. Both looked frazzled. Gabrielle gave him a smile as she acknowledged what he’d seen. ‘St George’s has never dealt with a major accident before. We had to call in some staff from a few surrounding hospitals.’

  ‘Any with trauma experience?’

  She shook her head as she put a probe on Mr Bahn’s finger, checked his airway and slipped an oxygen mask over his face. As Sullivan tried to wash the worst of the soot and dust off, she scanned Mr Bahn’s body, found the cannula she was obviously looking for and drew up some drugs. ‘What’s he had?’

  He pulled on a paper gown and some gloves. ‘Just a litre of IV saline.’

  ‘I’m going to give him some morphine for the pain and some steroids for the swelling around his chest area.’

  He nodded in agreement. He wasn’t quite sure of the last time Gabrielle had dealt with an emergency situation. Any medic working for Doctors Without Borders could experience just about any situation.

  Gabrielle seemed calm and confident, that was good enough for him. She’d tell him if she was feeling out of her depth.

  She looked at the penetrating chest wound as he motioned to the radiographer. The mobile X-ray machine was wheeled in and Gabrielle glanced over at him.

  He pointed to the door. ‘You go out, I’ll monitor his airway. I don’t want to leave him alone.’ He slipped his hand into the proffered lead apron and one minute later the machine was wheeled back out.

  He picked up the wires for the cardiac monitor. There was no way electrodes could be fixed to this patient’s chest—parts of his skin were missing. He motioned to Gabrielle. ‘Help me sit him forward and I’ll put these on his back. I want to try and keep an eye on his heart rate as well as his blood pressure.

  She shook her head. ‘No, wait a second.’ She jogged out of the room and he could see her heading to the stairs. He kept an eye on his patient as one of the nurses came in with a check list. He scanned the list. There were twenty-one patients, including their injuries and current status.

  ‘Where did the Chinese worker with a leg fracture go?’

  The nurse looked at him anxiously. ‘They took the rest of the patients to Princess Elizabeth’s—it’s one of the other private hospitals. It has a few specialist eye surgeons and an orthopaedist. Princess Gabrielle arranged it.’ The nurse glanced around at the quiet chaos in the surrounding department. ‘She was worried we wouldn’t have enough theatres or staff.’

  Sullivan nodded carefully. She’d triaged the patients as they’d come in. He’d been doing it at one end—and she’d been doing it at the other. It seemed that in emergency situations Gabrielle Cartier kept a clear and rational head. He ran his eyes down the list again. ‘Okay, we seem to have the majority of patients with burns and explosive injuries.’

  The nurse bit her bottom lip. ‘Princess Gabrielle said you would be able to handle those. She’s arranged for two plastic surgeons to join you. I think they’re familiarising themselves with the theatre arrangements.’

  ‘Perfect.’ She really had thought of everything.

  The door to the stairs swung open and Gabrielle jogged back towards them, her ponytail swinging madly. She had a sealed surgical pack in her hands that she waved at him.

  ‘They do a lot of cardiac surgery here. They have proper packs in Theatre. These leads can go on the patient’s back instead of their chest.’

  Of course. They were in a state-of-the-art hospital. They probably had equipment that he’d not even seen yet.

  They placed the leads on the patient’s back as the chest X-ray was slid onto the light box by the radiographer. She didn’t wait for Sullivan’s diagnosis. ‘Large penetrating injury to the right lung. No wonder his sats are poor. He has a pneumothorax.’

  The radiographer was right. Sullivan just wasn’t used to people reading his X-rays for him. He glanced at the monitor. ‘If we have a theatre available I’d rather deal with the pneumothorax in there. It makes sense to be next to the anaesthetist when our next step is to remove what’s causing the lung collapse and then deal with the burns.’

  Gabrielle’s dark eyes met his own. ‘That’ll be a long surgery.’

  He nodded. ‘It will.’

  She could see her biting the inside of her cheek. ‘What is it?’

  ‘We have other patients who will require surgery. I think we’ll have enough staff to have two teams. Do you want to triage the patients?’

  Ah. That was it. He got it. She’d felt confident enough to categorise the patients and send them to the most appropriate hospital. But she wasn’t a surgeon. She didn’t want to step outside her field of expertise. It was up to him to prioritise the surgical cases.

  ‘Absolutely.’ He looked down at their clothes. ‘And I guess we should both find a pair of scrubs.’

  This time she smiled. She was used to him joking when they were at work together. In fact, this was the most normal things had felt between them in the last thirty or so hours. He felt like a fish out of water in the palace. Here? Even though he didn’t know this hospital, this healthcare system or the staff, he felt much more at home.

  And even though this was an emergency situation, Gabrielle seemed more relaxed too. Being a doctor was second nature to her. She could adapt to any situation. It brought out the best in her. It was her home too.

  Even though they’d barely been there a day, she’d seemed fraught with tension in the palace. As he looked at everyone hurrying to and fro in the emergency department he leaned over and put his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘I have no idea just how much you’ve done here, or how many promises you had to make to get these two hospitals to take the patients from the mines, but, Gabrielle, without these facilities a lot of these miners could have died.’ He took a long slow breath. ‘I think your negotiation skills will have to continue. Lots of the people affected will have a long road to recovery. I have no idea how the healthcare system works here, but you could have a tough time ahead.’

  ‘Not as tough as these patients.’ Her voice was firm and determined. ‘Let me worry about that.’ She gave him a soft smile. ‘I’m just glad you were here, Sullivan. Today needs a trauma surgeon and a burns specialist and that’s you. I know these patients are in safe hands. That’s the most important thing in the world.’ She gave a nod of her head. ‘Now, check over the patients for me, then go to surgery. I’ll see you later.’

  He bent lower and brushed a tiny kiss on her cheek. ‘Proud of you,’ he whispered, and as he raised his head he saw her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

  It was the first time he’d kissed her since they’d got there. For the briefest second he could see a million things flashing in her eyes. Attraction. Sorrow. Worry. Then he saw her suck in a breath and move away quickly.

  It only took ten minutes to review the other patients with one of the nurses. ‘This man next, he has full-thickness burns to twenty per cent of his body. I’ll take him once I’ve finished with Mr Bahn. This patient goes to the other team; he has semi-thickness burns that will require cleaning and a skin graft. This lady, Arona Jibel, put her on the other team’s list too. She has multiple small penetrating wounds that all need to be debrided. Put a note she’ll need X-rays in Theatre to make sure th
ey’ve got everything. And this man with the hand injuries and burns to his thighs, I’ll do him third. The two patients with facial injuries—cheeks and foreheads—put them on the list for the other team. I think Gabrielle said there are two plastic surgeons on that team. If I’m finished before them, I can take one of those patients.’ The nurse nodded and scribbled notes furiously. Sullivan held out his hand towards her. ‘And thank you. Everyone here today has been great. I know this isn’t what you’re used to.’

  She gave him a smile and she shook his hand. ‘Actually, it reminded me how much I liked to be challenged at work. I’d think I’d forgotten for a while. Now, get going, I’ll organise everything else and make sure these patients are monitored.’

  Sullivan glanced back out into the corridor and leaned back, stretching his back muscles. There was no sign of Gabrielle. But that was fine. For the next twelve hours he would probably be very busy.

  The difference between the Gabrielle he saw here and the Gabrielle back in the palace had given him a lot to think about.

  * * *

  Fourteen hours later Sullivan finally left Theatre. Half of Gabrielle’s personal palace staff had arrived at one point or another at the hospital. The director of St George’s had been charm itself, and had invited them to use his own personal suite. But Gabrielle wanted to be near the patients that she considered under her care. She’d taken a quick car ride to Princess Elizabeth’s and checked on the patients and staff there too.

  A whole array of directors had arrived from the mining corporation. Gabrielle had directed her staff to deal with them. ‘Find out contact information for all their workers—there’s a huge variety of nationalities—and make sure the hospitals have the information they need. If we need translators, arrange that too.’ She glanced at Franz Hindermann. ‘There’ll need to be an investigation into how this accident occurred. I have other priorities but I expect our government to act appropriately. Make sure the mining corporation know that they will be footing the bill for all expenses. All expenses,’ she emphasised. ‘They should have insurance to cover it—I’m not sure all their workers will. We’ll talk about that later too.’