by Lucy Clark
‘Euphemia!’ His voice became louder and she saw the worried look in his eyes.
‘Yes?’
‘Are you hurt? Bruised? Can you stand?’ As he spoke, he felt her head and down her arms. How could she—a trained medical professional—be more concerned with her reaction to this perfect stranger than the train accident? What was wrong with her?
‘I’m fine.’ And she wasn’t sure she liked him touching her, simply because it caused a mass of tingles to flood her entire body and explode like fireworks. She shifted but it appeared he wasn’t ready to move away just yet. ‘I’m fine,’ she reiterated. ‘I’m OK. You? You hit that lounge pretty hard.’
Phemie touched his shoulder but on feeling the firm muscle realised her touch was anything but medical. Bad. It was bad. He was Professor Gilbert Fitzwilliam! She wasn’t supposed to have an instant attraction to this man. He was a medical genius. He was a research phenomenon and he lived on the other side of the world. Apart from that, Phemie was most certainly not looking for any sort of romantic relationship. Not now. Not ever.
‘I’ll live.’ Gil carefully stood, holding out a hand to help Phemie up. The sooner he put some distance between them the better. Having that gorgeous, petite body of hers pressed hard against his was something he hadn’t expected to experience but now he had, he couldn’t help his mounting intrigue for this woman.
Once she was on her feet, he let her go. Distance. He needed distance from her. He was so intent on moving away he almost stood on his Thermos, which had rolled to the floor. He quickly picked it up and placed it on a chair. ‘Someone’s pulled the emergency stop handle.’
‘Agreed.’ Phemie brushed herself down, straightening her clothes, pleased there was now space between them. She dragged in a few breaths to focus herself. ‘Emergency stop means—’
‘Something has gone wrong. No doubt medical assistance will be required.’ He headed for the carriage door. ‘I’ll find a steward then hopefully we’ll know what’s going on. Stay here and ensure everyone in this carriage is all right.’ With that, he opened the weighted door. Phemie watched him go, liking the way he walked—sure and firm and with purpose.
As soon as he was out of sight, her brain clicked immediately into medical mode and she went to help the other lounge-car passengers. There were a few bumps, a few bruises and scratches but for the most part everyone seemed fine, just very shaken. One man was more concerned about his computer than anything else. Everyone had questions but Phemie didn’t have any answers.
She had just finished checking the pulse of a three-year-old boy, snuggled into his mother’s arms, his cries having settled somewhat, when Gil strode back into the carriage, two stewards and a guard following him. One of the stewards carried a large medical kit.
‘Dr Grainger. You’re needed. This way.’ His tone was as brisk as his strides and realising she was seeing the Professor in all his professional glory, Phemie excused herself from the young mother and followed the men.
‘Apparently, there’s been an incident a few carriages down.’ Gil spoke softly yet clearly as they made their way through the empty dining carriage towards the rear of the twenty-two-car-long train. ‘One of the passengers had an accident walking between two of the carriages. His mate was behind him, saw it happen and ran back to pull the emergency stop.’
‘Do we have any idea what sort of injury?’
Her voice was calm, clear and in control. Gil was pleased. It appeared he had a doctor who was more than happy to assist in this emergency. He’d realised years ago that emergency medicine didn’t suit every type of medical professional, but for him it provided variety and unique challenges and was something he thrived on…especially since June and Caitie. Gil shook his head. Now was definitely not the time to even think about his past.
‘Lots of blood has been the main report.’ Gil indicated to one of the stewards as they walked through to the next carriage and nodded, indicating the man should start his debrief now.
‘Uh…yeah…right, Doc. We uh…just got a message through our radios…’ he indicated the two-way communication device ‘…saying a man had hurt himself and there was a lot of blood.’
Phemie nodded, thinking through possible scenarios, but there were simply too many. ‘Has anyone contacted the authorities? Sent for medical support?’
‘Uh…I think the driver has notified the rail authority but I don’t know about anything else.’
Phemie reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone.
‘It won’t work here,’ the guard said. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere.’
‘We’re only about four hours out of Didja and this is no ordinary phone.’ She punched in a number and a moment later was connected. ‘Hi, it’s Phemie.’ She paused. ‘I am having a break, I promise, but there’s been an accident on the train.’ The guard was able to give her their exact co-ordinates and she passed this information on. ‘Get the plane in the air. I’ll forward more details when I have them. Over.’ She replaced the phone in her pocket.
‘Over?’ A quizzical smile tipped Gil’s lips as they continued their way through the train. ‘Do you always end your phone calls like that?’
‘Oh. Yeah. Bad habit. I’m used to talking on a UHF radio.’
‘Really?’ Gil continued to be intrigued by this woman. ‘Who did you just call?’
‘RFDS.’ At his blank look, she remembered he was from overseas and quickly explained. ‘Royal Flying Doctor Service. We’re based just outside Didja.’
‘Didja?’
‘Didjabrindagrogalon. It’s the outback town where I boarded the train.’
‘You work at the RFDS?’
‘Yes.’
Gil digested this information as they finally arrived at the carriage with the injured passenger. As they’d walked, the stewards and guard had been stopped several times by people wanting to know what was happening. Some people were crying, others were visibly shaken, some had slept through the entire thing. Gil, however, was busy processing the information about Phemie. If she worked for the RFDS, which he presumed provided emergency medical support to the farthest reaches of this vast country, it surely meant she was an experienced doctor with several years of training behind her. Yet she looked so young.
Harlan, the steward carrying the medical kit, walked behind them. ‘It’s just down here…’ He pointed as the end of the carriage came into view. There were lots of people standing around, blocking the way.
‘Excuse me.’ Gil’s voice carried the authority necessary to make people obey. They shuffled by the crowd to find one man slumped to the floor, his eyes wide, his hands tinged with blood, his body shaking, staring blankly.
Beside him were another two stewards, leaning over a man in his early twenties. One was at his head, talking to him, trying to keep him calm. The other was at the man’s feet. The patient’s right leg was elevated, a blood-soaked towel around the foot.
‘I’m Dr Fitzwilliam. What’s happened?’ Again, Gil’s voice was clear and smooth. Phemie watched an expression of relief cross the steward’s face. The cavalry was there and they were more than happy to back away.
‘His toe’s come off. His big toe!’ The steward holding the towel was the first to speak, the words said with utter disbelief. ‘He wasn’t wearing closed shoes. He went between the carriages, the train lurched, his toe got caught and…and…saying this out loud makes me feel sick.’
‘We tell the passengers,’ Harlan said sternly, ‘we tell them no flip-flops. No bare feet. We tell them all the time.’
‘Yes.’ Gil took the first-aid kit from Harlan, holding it open so Phemie could extract gloves. ‘Thank you. Now isn’t the time for chastisement or laying blame. The legalities can wait until later. The first priority is for the patient to be assessed. Harlan, you need to find the missing digit.’
‘His toe’s really come off?’ Phemie had managed to manoeuvre herself around so she could take over from the young steward who was holding the towel. ‘W
e need to find it.’
‘Find the toe?’ Now the young steward turned a nasty shade of pale.
‘Believe it or not.’ Harlan’s voice was strong and sure. ‘This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Of course, the last time was almost twenty years ago and even though we found the missing toe, it was too late to reattach it.’ He seemed to be the one with the strongest constitution amongst the railway staff present and Phemie knew Gil had been right to put him in charge of the search. ‘I’ll get that organised immediately.’ He turned to the guard and started discussing exactly where they had stopped and how far back they would need to begin looking.
Gil crouched down near the friend who was against the wall but kept glancing to where Phemie was busy assessing the foot in question. He put the first-aid kit down where she could reach it, then focused on the injured man’s friend. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Paolo.’
‘I’m Gil. What happened? Can you remember?’
‘We were just walking between the carriages. We were heading to the dining hall and Kiefer stumbled. I don’t know. The train just lurched and then Kiefer was screaming and there was blood everywhere around his foot and the…the…I was right near the door and then I saw the emergency stop handle and I just…I just pulled it. I…’ Paolo shook his head. ‘There was blood and…’ He clamped a hand over his mouth.
‘It’s OK,’ Gil reassured him. ‘You did the right thing. Any delay in stopping the train means we may not find the toe.’
‘Oh—’ Paolo went as white as a sheet, looking like he was going to faint.
Gil urged the man’s head forward and motioned for Harlan to come over. ‘Get someone to stay with Paolo, please. I need to assist Dr Grainger.’
‘She’s a doctor?’ Harlan was stunned. ‘She looks so young.’
As he made his way to Kiefer, Gil was pleased he wasn’t the only one who’d thought Phemie to be a lot younger than she looked. ‘Hey, there, Kiefer,’ he said to their patient. ‘I’m Gil and this is Phemie. Are you allergic to anything?’
‘No. No.’ Kiefer shook his head. Gil searched in the first-aid kit, pleased to find a penlight torch. He checked Kiefer’s pupils. ‘Been drinking tonight? Taking any substances?’ He checked the man’s pupils.
Kiefer shook his head again.
‘I need to know. I don’t care what it is but I need to know otherwise it makes it more difficult for us to treat you.’ Gil could smell the faint remnants of beer on the breath of both Paolo and his mate but he needed to hear it.
‘Beer. Just beer.’
‘How many?’
‘Three. Maybe four. Not that many. We’d just got started. We got hungry.’ Kiefer was in so much pain Gil was surprised he hadn’t passed out but the alcohol would have been enough to take the edge off the trauma.
‘All right. Good.’ The first-aid kit was well stocked but unfortunately there was nothing stronger than over-the-counter pain medication. It would have to do for now. Gil sent a steward to get a cup of water.
‘How does it look?’ he asked quietly as he watched Phemie. She’d placed the foot onto a clean towel and was trying to clean and wash the wound site to afford them a better look.
‘From what I can see, it’s been cleanly severed. There is sufficient skin to enable reattachment. He’s a good candidate. I’ve asked for some ice-packs and also for a container of ice for when we find the missing digit.’
‘Optimism. I like that.’
‘Good, because I have it in abundance.’
‘Really?’
Their gazes met, his brown eyes rich and almost teasing. For a split second it was as though they were back in the lounge carriage. Just the two of them, their minds having one conversation, their bodies having another. Tension. Awareness. Questions. They were all there and as Phemie looked away, she made the attempt to clarify her statement. ‘Well, where my patients are concerned, at any rate.’
‘Like all good doctors should,’ he returned. Why had she felt the need to clarify? Was she not usually optimistic in other areas of her life? Her personal life? If that was the case, it only piqued his curiosity further. In fact, ever since he’d first seen Euphemia Grainger his thoughts had been more captivated by her than anything else. This was definitely something new for him to ponder, given that his thoughts were always about his research, his next lot of speeches and presentations. Thinking about a woman? Having a woman occupy his thoughts? No. That was wrong.
The steward returned with the cup of water and Gil administered two analgesic painkillers, knowing the previously consumed alcohol in Kiefer’s system wouldn’t react to the pills. Until help arrived, there wasn’t much else he or Phemie could do except make their patient as comfortable as possible and find that toe.
Gil performed Kiefer’s observations and reported the findings to Phemie. ‘He’s as stable as we can get him.’
‘Good. I’m ready to bandage this foot up now. Did you want to look before I do so?’ she asked, shifting slightly to make room where there wasn’t any. Now that she’d said the words, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to come any closer. If he did, it would only bring them into tight contact with each other, given the walkways were barely big enough to fit two people through side by side let alone hip to hip with a patient lying on the floor before them.
Gil tried to shift through but short of moving Kiefer’s body to the side, getting anywhere near the foot in question was going to have to wait. He shook his head. ‘I can’t get through. Just show me from there. I have good eyesight.’
Phemie unwrapped the foot from the clean towel she’d draped over it and angled it slightly so Gil could see. He was, after all, Professor Gilbert Fitzwilliam, the British surgeon who had basically written the manual for emergency medical procedures. Whilst he perused Kiefer’s foot, Phemie perused him. To say he wasn’t at all what she’d expected was a bit of an understatement. He was more down to earth, more…natural than she’d thought, but, then, she’d never really thought about him as a person in his own right.
‘You’ve done well at debriding. Bandage away. The healthier we keep the area, the better the chance of successful reattachment.’ At that, he turned to Harlan, remembering to check on the status. The steward was the lynchpin in this whole retrieval operation and he’d done a good job. Whilst Gil and Phemie had been tending to the patient, Harlan’s communication radio had been working overtime. Staff were out searching for the digit, other stewards were attempting to keep passengers as calm as possible and Gil knew it was Harlan who had given the train manager the right words to say over the loudspeaker to inform the passengers of the situation.
‘Ice-packs are on their way,’ Harlan informed them. ‘Sorry it’s taken so long.’
‘No need to apologise,’ Gil replied. ‘We wholeheartedly appreciate the assistance you’ve provided and thank you. You’ve been most obliging.’
‘Very good, sir.’ Harlan almost made a little bow.
Phemie couldn’t help but smile as she expertly finished off Kiefer’s bandage. Gil really sounded like the professor when he spoke like that, all British with pomp and ceremony. She liked it and hoped it would serve as a reminder of who he really was. That way, she at least had a hope of keeping herself under better control.
Gil checked on Paolo and found him to be improving and more in possession of his faculties. Phemie began asking Kiefer the same basic questions again and whilst she knew he hadn’t hit his head, the amount of shock his body was experiencing was extreme.
She pulled off her gloves and put them into a small rubbish bag Harlan handed her. ‘I might give my people another call. See where they’re up to.’ She pulled her phone from her pocket.
‘The bat phone again?’
Phemie’s lips twitched at Gil’s words. ‘It’s more effective than shining a big bright light in the sky.’ The professor was not only gorgeous, affecting her in ways she didn’t want to contemplate, but also had a wonderful sense of humour. He was just the type
of man she should keep her distance from, starting with not agreeing to have tea with him in Sydney. She dialled the number of the Didja RFDS base and thankfully, Ben answered immediately.
‘It’s me. The emergency is a spontaneous amputation of the big toe. Right foot. We have people out looking for the toe. Patient is stable but requires analgesics. If you could contact Perth hospital, I think it’s best if Sardi takes the patient directly rather than going through Didja.’ She paused. ‘Three hours. That’s our window and we’ve already used half an hour.’ Phemie listened. ‘I’m fine. I have help. No, another doctor. Yes.’ She turned her head, her gaze encompassing Gil. ‘It was rather fortunate. Right, that’s about it for now. Thanks, Ben.’
She finished the call and put her phone away. ‘They should be here in about an hour, maybe less.’
‘We’re going to need more people searching for the toe.’ Harlan had heard what she’d said and he called through to the train manager to inform him of the situation.
‘The most obvious place would actually be on the tracks themselves,’ Phemie said then shrugged. ‘But who really knows. I’ve never had to look for a missing digit before.’
‘First time for everything?’ Gil asked as he started to perform Kiefer’s observations.
‘Have you had anything like this happen to you before?’
‘On a train travelling across Australia?’ he asked with a hint of mischief. ‘No.’
Phemie simply smiled and checked on Paolo. The other man didn’t want to leave his friend but Phemie managed to convince him to go and pack their things and get ready to leave the train. ‘Kiefer’s going to need your help. Your reassurance. Your support. Are you from Perth?’ Paolo nodded and she continued, trying to get Paolo’s thoughts into a position where he’d be more of a help than a hindrance. ‘Then at least you’ll have somewhere to stay.’
‘So I need to pack our things?’
‘The better prepared we are when the plane arrives, the better it will be for Kiefer,’ she encouraged. Thankfully, Paolo now had a lot more colour in his face and was able to stand and walk quite easily back to his carriage to get things organised.
