by Anne Fraser
‘Nineteen! Twenty!’ He let her go so unexpectedly she sprawled face down in the dust. She staggered to her feet and furiously patted the dust from her front.
Nick held out his water bottle. ‘You might need a drink.’
‘If you ever—and I mean ever—do that to me again,’ she snarled, ‘I’ll...’
He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do what?’
She drew herself up to her full height and pushed away the water bottle. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. ‘Try it again, and you’ll see.’ God! Was that the best she could manage?
Then, unbearably conscious of everyone’s eyes on her, she stalked away with as much dignity as she could muster.
* * *
Later, after she rinsed as much of the sand from her hair as she could in the dribble that passed for a shower, she went to report for duty, pausing only to pick up a banana from the mess.
She was still livid with Nick. Okay, so she might have poured out her life story—or at least the first half of it—to him while they had been on the plane, but that was no reason for him to treat her like an annoying kid sister. Hell, she was twenty-six.
And she didn’t want Nick to treat her like a kid sister.
The thought brought her up short. Damn, she was no better than the rest of Nick’s admirers. But she had one card up her sleeve. At least she knew he couldn’t be taken seriously. Her brother Charlie had been just like Nick. He too had thought he was God’s gift to women, having had a seemingly endless series of short-term girlfriends until he’d met and married Alice. Her other brother, Alan, was still working his way through the female population of the UK.
To her dismay, Nick was standing outside the main tent when she arrived, almost as if he’d been waiting for her. He had a cup of coffee in his hand.
‘Recovered?’ he asked.
‘Very amusing. You’ve had your fun, now why don’t you go...’ she waved her hands vaguely in the direction of the camp ‘...and do some weightlifting or something?’
Dark eyes studied her and a small smile played on his lips. ‘Don’t be mad,’ he said softly.
‘I don’t get mad. I get even.’
She groaned inwardly. Couldn’t she have thought of a retort that was a little less clichéd? She was becoming more inarticulate by the minute. At least it was better than blushing.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘I know you’re a major and I’m only a lieutenant, but I won’t be made a fool of.’
That was better! Now she was showing some backbone.
He lost the smile, although there was still a suspicious glint in his eyes. ‘You’re right.’ He raised his hand to his head in a mock salute. ‘I apologise. Unreservedly.’
Flustered by his unexpected apology, she looked at her watch. Seven-thirty. ‘Don’t you have work to do?’
He tossed the dregs of his coffee onto the ground. ‘Actually, I don’t. I’ve finished rounds and it’s all quiet.’ He eyed her speculatively. ‘Don’t suppose you play poker?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do. However, unlike you, I have work to do.’ She swept past him, aware that he was following her. Every hair on her body stood to attention.
‘What about tomorrow? When you’re finished for the day? Come over to the bar—the NCOs’, that is. It has, let’s just say, a more relaxed atmosphere there.’
Why was he so interested in what she did in her spare time? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? If he wanted someone to amuse him there were bound to be plenty of others happy to fill that role. However, a plan was forming in her mind. She turned around and smiled. ‘Sure. Why not? Let’s say six.’
* * *
Determined never to have a repeat of the fiasco with the press-ups, Tiggy decided to run around the camp perimeter every morning before breakfast. Despite the humiliation of having hundreds of men calling out encouragement as she wheezed and puffed her way around the track, she gritted her teeth and kept telling herself that she could do it. Anything was better than yesterday’s embarrassment of having Nick’s hands on the waistband of her trousers when he’d helped her complete her press-ups.
But once again, damn the man, he appeared like the devil from hell beside her. He shortened his strides to keep pace with her.
‘Hello, Red. Turned over a new leaf, have you?’
‘If you call me Red again,’ she wheezed, ‘so help me, I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
A slow smile crossed his face. He held up his hands with his fingers crossed. ‘I promise never to call you Red again. If I do, you can have all my poker matches and that’s a promise.’
She hid a smile. She hadn’t known she could smile and run at the same time. He turned round so that he was running backwards. He was shirtless and his combat trousers were so low on his hips she couldn’t help but notice his six-pack. She averted her eyes, pretending an interest in a passing Jeep.
‘How many circuits?’ he asked.
‘This is my last.’ She wasn’t about to tell him it was also her first. One circuit was torture enough and she was determined to wait until she got to the safety of her quarters before she collapsed.
‘I’m impressed.’ His toffee-coloured eyes crinkled at the corners.
‘Don’t you have lives to save or something?’ She indicated the hospital tent with her arm.
‘Not right at the moment.’ Even running backwards, he managed to look her up and down. ‘I saw you come out for your run and the thought struck me that I might have to save yours. Looks like exercise hasn’t exactly been high on your agenda until now.’
Was he implying she looked like a couch potato?
‘Although you clearly do something to keep in shape,’ he added.
Oh, please. Despite everything, the look of frank admiration in his eyes made her heart skip a beat.
Come on, Tiggy. Get a grip. This man is out of bounds and even if he wasn’t, he is so not your type.
But it was as if her mouth had a mind of its own. ‘Been watching me, huh?’ A stitch had started somewhere below her ribs and the last word came out more as a cry of anguish than the casual reference she’d meant it to be. How long could one kilometre be? It could be the damned end of the world as far as she was concerned.
She gasped for air, trying to ignore the increasing pain in her side.
His eyes flickered over her and he frowned. ‘You all right?’
‘Never been better—or at least I will be when you leave...me...alone...’ She managed another couple of strides and then had to stop. She bent over, clutching her knees, as a wave of pain slammed into her. Dear God, was she having a heart attack?
Before she knew it she was being lifted over his shoulder.
‘Put me down,’ she yelled into his back—a back that she couldn’t help noticing, even from her upside-down position, was ridged with muscle.
‘I will as soon as I find some shade. Don’t you know better than to exercise in this heat? Are you crazy, woman? You should have started earlier, or there’s a decent air-conditioned gym on the other side of the camp that’s better suited for someone who’s not used to exercise.’
There was a gym? An air-conditioned gym? Why on earth had no one told her? Why hadn’t she asked?
Then she was inside her tent and he was laying her on the bed. Sue rushed over, concern furrowing her brow. ‘What happened? Is she okay? Tiggy, speak to me.’
‘I’m fine. Just need some water.’ Sue held a bottle to her lips and she gulped thirstily.
‘What have you been doing to the poor girl, Nick?’ Sue demanded.
‘Hey, don’t blame me. I was just an innocent bystander.’
‘Come off it! You’ve never been innocent or a bystander in your life!’
Nick laughed. ‘Make sure she cools down before she goes on duty.’ He leaned over and ruffled her hair. ‘Stick to the gym in future.’
* * *
Later that afternoon, Tiggy studied the cards in her hand and suppressed a smile. Although every m
uscle ached, including some she hadn’t known she had, her mood was improving.
She tossed a matchstick onto those already on the table. ‘I’ll raise you ten.’
Nick lifted an eyebrow. He counted out some matchsticks from his pile and added them to hers. They’d no casualties that day and Tiggy had spent most of her day with Hadiya, re-dressing her burns and being taught some words of Pashto by the little girl and her giggling mother. When the patients had all been seen to they’d set up a temporary poker table, at Nick’s suggestion, in an empty cubicle. Some of the nurses and technicians had started off playing, too, but after two hours Nick and Tiggy were the only ones left in the game.
The rest of the team was either watching them play, flicking through magazines or answering the occasional call from the patients.
Nick wasn’t to know, of course, that she played most nights with her father and her brothers whenever they were at home.
‘Twenty and I’ll see you.’
Nick leaned back in his chair and grinned. He placed his hand face up on the table. ‘A flush! Beat that!’
Tiggy pretended to look dismayed, studying his cards as if she couldn’t quite believe her bad luck. Then she allowed herself a small smile before laying hers down. ‘Think my four aces beats your flush.’
Nick laughed. ‘Beaten by a girl! Who would have thought? You have some poker face there, Red.’
She glared at him but before she could say anything he smiled and corrected himself. ‘Apologies. Not Red, Tiggy.’
She blushed. She wished she managed her poker face as well in her private life.
At that moment the siren sounded.
‘Two men down and possibly civilian injuries forty klicks away,’ Sue interpreted the cackle from the radio. ‘They’re requesting a rapid medical response team to go in and bring them out.’
Nick had stood and was shrugging himself into his flak jacket. ‘I need a nurse—any volunteers?’
‘I’ll go,’ Tiggy said.
‘No way,’ Nick replied tersely. ‘Anyone else?’
Irritated and relieved in equal measure, Tiggy glared at him. He didn’t even seem to notice.
There was a show of hands and Nick picked an older man. ‘Okay, Scotty, you’re with me. The rest of you prepare to receive the casualties. I’ll let you know what to expect as soon as I’ve made an assessment. Those who aren’t needed and haven’t donated recently, please give blood—just in case. Sue, turf out anyone from the wards who doesn’t absolutely have to be there.’ He grabbed his helmet and strode out of the room.
Instantaneously, everyone exploded into action. Sue, remembering Tiggy was there, propelled her towards the resus room. ‘We need to make sure we have everything ready. At this stage we don’t know what to expect or how much blood we’ll need. What group are you?’
‘O positive.’
‘Perfect. One of the medics will get you started on a line.’
‘Can’t I help prepare for the casualties?’
Sue hesitated. ‘We need your blood more than we need you right now. Don’t worry, you’ll get your fair share of action before your time here is up. In the meantime, watch and learn.’
When Sue was satisfied everything was ready for the incoming casualties, she came to check up on Tiggy.
She eyed the bag of blood. ‘Another ten minutes max.’
While she’d been waiting for the bag to fill with her blood, Tiggy had been thinking about the little Afghan girl. She hoped Nick hadn’t included her in his instructions to clear the ward.
‘What about Hadiya?’ she asked Sue. ‘We’re not going to discharge her too?’
Sue shook her head. ‘Nick wants to keep her in for a bit.’
‘But are we really going to send her away without further surgery?’
‘It can’t be helped.’
‘Surely Nick can make an exception?’
Sue sighed. ‘Believe me, if he could he would. And I haven’t given up hope that he won’t. If anyone can make a miracle happen, it’s Nick. Now, I’d better get on. You just relax.’
* * *
Tiggy had finished giving blood, although Sue had insisted that she stay lying down afterwards. Frustrated, she watched as everyone double-checked that everything was ready. The radio crackled again and the staff paused to listen.
‘We have two soldiers with shrapnel wounds. One has an injury to his left arm, the other abdominal wounds.’ Nick’s voice was calm over the roar of the helicopter’s engines. ‘ETA five minutes.’
The surgeon in charge of receiving the casualties turned to his team. ‘It sounds as if we’ll need both theatres. Everyone to your stations.’
Tiggy eased herself up from the gurney and grabbed a leftover biscuit from the coffee table where everyone had been sitting. Although she still wasn’t hungry, she knew she had to eat something. She was damned if she was going to stand by while everyone else around her worked, and fainting wouldn’t endear her to anyone. Slipping into the changing room, she found a clean pair of scrubs and changed quickly. Her throat was still dry but she knew it wasn’t from dust this time.
Before she could find Sue, the doors burst open and Nick entered, along with a couple of soldiers pushing a trolley. Nick was kneeling on top of his patient, doing chest compressions.
‘He stopped breathing in the ’copter, but CPR has been given continuously. We’ve given him two units of red cells and two litres of colloid en route. We need to get him to Theatre stat.’
Willing hands stepped forward and rushed the patient through to Resus. Moments later, Scotty and more soldiers burst through the swing doors with the other stretcher.
‘This man has shrapnel wounds to his arm,’ Scotty called out. ‘I’ve applied a temporary dressing and started a drip. Vital signs all okay.’
The injury to the second soldier’s hand was such that for a moment Tiggy couldn’t move.
As he too was wheeled into Resus, her training kicked in. She grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting away the soldier’s uniform, only vaguely aware of the staff crowded around the other patient, shouting orders.
Sue wheeled the portable X-ray over to Tiggy’s patient. There was another flurry of activity as the soldier with the abdominal wound was taken into Theatre.
Nick crossed over to them, peeling off his gloves. Tiggy handed him a fresh pair. The soldier’s vitals were getting worse. His blood pressure was dropping and his pulse becoming increasingly rapid and weak.
‘We need to get his arm off. It’s the only way to stop the bleeding,’ the orthopaedic surgeon said, examining the wound.
‘Let’s try and stop the bleeding first, shall we?’ Nick said quietly. ‘The hand might not be salvageable, but we might be able to save his lower arm.’
‘You have five minutes,’ the orthopod said. ‘After that, he’s going to Theatre.’
They did everything they could to stop the bleeding, pumping the soldier with blood, but when Nick, along with the other surgeon, looked at the X-ray of the soldier’s injury, he sighed, his eyes bleak. ‘The damage is too bad,’ he said. ‘You’re right, Simon. Amputation is the only way to go.’
Before she could help herself, a small cry escaped from Tiggy’s lips. ‘Are you sure? Isn’t there anything we can do?’
Nick and Sue were already preparing the casualty for Theatre. ‘If there was, we would do it,’ Nick said tightly.
Tiggy swallowed hard. The boy was so young. But she knew Nick was right. The X-ray was there for them all to see, and Nick had already taken a chance by not sending the lad to Theatre straight away.
Nick looked at Tiggy and if she had any doubts as to how much he’d hoped to save the soldier’s arm they vanished when she saw the anguish in his eyes. ‘I promised these boys we would get them home and that’s what we’re going to do. I’ll assist, Simon.’
Moments later, the resus room was empty.
* * *
Much later, when Dave, the soldier whose arm had been amputated, was settled
on the ward, Tiggy escaped outside. She tried to control the tremors that kept running through her body.
‘You okay?’ Nick’s voice came from behind her.
‘No. Yes. I will be.’ She took another deep breath. ‘He’s so young to lose an arm.’
‘He’ll learn to live without it.’
She whirled around. ‘How can you say that? You don’t have the remotest idea what it will be like for him.’
Nick’s expression didn’t change. ‘No, you’re right. I don’t. If I lost my arm or the use of any of my limbs, I don’t know what I’d do. But at least he’s alive. At least he won’t be going home in a body bag. Not like his colleague.’
They had been unable to save the other casualty. They all felt his loss as if he’d been their brother, their husband. When Nick had told them, his expression hadn’t changed, and Tiggy wondered if she’d imagined his anguish earlier.
‘How can you be so...’ she sought for the right word ‘...unaffected?’
‘Because they need me to be professional. They need us all to be professional.’ Nick’s voice was flat.
Tiggy slumped against the wall and wiped a hand across her perspiring brow. He was right, of course he was. If he could have saved the soldier’s arm, he would have. Wishing otherwise wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Dave.
She thought about her brothers. God help them all if either didn’t make it. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how her own mother would react. She loved her children with a tiger-like ferocity. Without warning, tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked furiously. She just couldn’t help herself. It was too awful.
‘Hey, Tiggy. Don’t do that. Dave will be okay.’ It was the first time outside work she’d seen him look serious. ‘We make it our job to get these boys back home alive, and mostly we do.’ His eyes darkened. ‘God, don’t you think I hate not being able to send that boy home in one piece?’
‘It’s not just him—or the man who died. It’s all of them. They’re so young. And my brothers—they’re out there, too.’
‘There will be another team doing the same for them if they ever need help.’
