Her eyes opened again, the tears trembling on her lashes as she tried to communicate something to him. But no intelligent sound came from her mouth, only an anguished moan.
‘Won’t be long now,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t try and talk or move. Just rest.’ He searched the horizon for some sign of the station plane. Irene was critically injured. Her breathing was shallow and her skin was hot. If help didn’t come soon she would die. He took her hand, and, resting on the cobbles next to his wife, he waited for the plane.
*
The main road was almost impassable, and Sam eventually gave up and steered the ute out into the country. It was flatter here, with less damage and they could go that bit faster.
‘Where is this Barron Falls?’ asked Olivia as she grabbed hold of anything that might stop her from being thrown about.
‘West,’ he replied shortly, all his concentration on the path ahead. ‘Up on the tablelands. Big tree country up there, could take a fair while to find them.’
Olivia remained silent as she clung to the door. The situation had emphasised the desperate need for a medical centre, and the sooner she got on with it, the better. At least the hurricane had done her one favour, she thought grimly. It had flattened the old house, so all they had to do now was clear the site and rebuild.
Sam brought the ute to a screeching halt. ‘Bugger. This is it. We’ll have to walk.’
Olivia looked around her. They were on a steep incline and surrounded by fallen trees. The only indication that this was a track lay in the flattened earth she could just see beneath the snapped branches and exposed roots of what must have once been a magnificent rainforest.
She grabbed her medical bag and climbed down. ‘How do we know which way to go?’ she asked.
‘Follow the track,’ said Sam. ‘It eventually leads to the sawmill, so they’d have been travelling this way to get home.’ He took an axe from the back of the ute, and slung a length of rope over his shoulder. ‘Might need these,’ he muttered as he led the way.
Olivia needed all her energy and concentration to pick her way through and around the chaotic mess the hurricane had left behind. It had almost certainly ripped through here with tremendous force, and she dreaded to think of what they might find when they came across the two amputees.
They had been walking for some time when Olivia, head down, watching where she trod, walked straight into Sam. He caught her in his arms. ‘Whoa, there, mate.’
Flustered by the sheer maleness of him, she drew back from his embrace and smeared the sweat from her face. ‘Why did you stop?’
He pointed. ‘Through there. Look.’
Olivia followed his pointing finger. A ragged path had been torn through the undergrowth and she could see the imprint of tyres in the mud. She looked further down this path and realised it came to a halt beneath a giant tree that had been felled by the wind. The glimmer of something white peeked between the gnarled branches.
‘Oh, my god,’ she breathed. ‘If they’re under that I’m surprised either of them is alive.’
‘Smokey was alive enough to make the call,’ muttered Sam as he led the way towards the tree.
Olivia followed him, her mouth dry, her pulse racing. She had no idea what they might find beneath that tree, and she was afraid her nursing skills would not be enough.
The tree had fallen sideways on to the utility and effectively sliced it in two. Its great trunk rested across the mangled metal, the rotten timber having exploded to reveal the soft underbelly that had once been home to generations of termites. From one of the snapped branches that lay in the midst of the shattered windscreen there swayed a wooden stump complete with leather strap.
Without a word Olivia and Sam clambered around the truck in search of the two men.
‘Sam? That you, mate?’
They stilled. ‘Smokey?’
‘About bloody time,’ groaned Smokey. ‘Over here.’
Olivia pointed and began to wriggle beneath the fallen trunk. She had seen the flash of a checked shirt as Smokey moved.
The two men were lying on top of one another in an almost impenetrable tangle of fallen branches and trapped scrub. Olivia crawled as close as she could, but her path was soon blocked. With growing frustration she tried to clear a way through, but it was impossible.
‘How bad do you think you’re hurt?’ she called.
‘Dunno,’ groaned Smokey. ‘Ribs hurt like buggery, and me arm feels like it’s bust. Hopalong passed out a while back, ain’t heard nothing from him for ages, but he’s still breathing.’
‘Can you move at all?’
‘Not with this old bastard lying on me,’ he drawled.
Olivia knew she could do nothing for either of them until she’d cleared a path. She crawled back to Sam and explained the situation.
‘They’re quite fortunate, actually,’ she said as she smeared the sweat from her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘They’ve landed on their backs into an indentation in the earth which look like heavy duty tyre tracks.’
‘Logging trucks are up and down this track every day,’ Sam explained.
‘Lucky for them it was so well used,’ she said as her pulse slowed and breathing returned to normal. ‘The tracks would have cushioned their fall, and probably protected them slightly from the full force of the crashing branches.’
Sam swung the axe. ‘I’ll chop, you haul.’ He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Are up for this, Olivia?’
‘Too right,’ she replied. ‘Get on with it. We’re wasting time and soon we won’t have any daylight.’
The ring of the axe echoed in the eerie stillness as inch by inch they cleared a path through the mangled maze of tree branches and ferns and sharp tropical leaves that cut flesh as keenly as any knife.
‘Mind how you go with that flaming axe,’ drawled Smokey.
‘If you don’t put a sock in it, I’ll flaming go home,’ muttered Sam.
They kept up this barrage of verbal abuse as the axe swung and Olivia tied the rope to the severed branches and hauled them out of the way. She was sweating and trembling with exhaustion as she fought to keep up with Sam, and ignore the stinging, biting insects that hovered around her in clouds. The mosquitoes were having a field–day in the damp humidity of this tropical rainforest.
The light was fading fast when they finally reached the two men. They had two hours at the most before darkness fell. They would have to be quick.
‘I’ll see to Hopalong first,’ she explained to Smokey. ‘Then we’ll move him off you.’
Smokey nodded. ‘How is he?’
‘I won’t know until I’ve examined him,’ she replied. She felt Hopalong’s pulse. It was very faint. His skin was icy to the touch and there was a tinge of blue around his mouth. She ran her hands swiftly over him and realised he’d broken his arm and probably a couple of ribs. There was a nasty gash in his side, but it was no longer bleeding, which was a good sign. Yet it was his amputated leg that bothered her the most. It was at a strange angle to his hip, and almost raw where it had been torn from the strapping.
‘What happened to his leg?’ she asked as she cleaned the ragged flesh on the stump and swiftly bandaged it up.
‘Had to pull him out quick,’ rasped Smokey. ‘Didn’t get the buckle undone in time.’
Olivia looked across at the wooden appendage swaying in the light breeze. Smokey’s actions had no doubt saved his mate, but had probably dislocated Hopalong’s hip joint.
‘I’m going to give him something to help with the pain, then Sam and I will get him off you,’ she said as she filled a hypodermic.
‘About bloody time,’ Smokey grumbled without malice. ‘The bludger weighs a flaming ton and a half.’ He gave a snort of wry laughter. ‘Always said he should go on a flaming diet.’
Olivia and Sam carefully lifted Hopalong and carried him back t
o the utility. Covering him with a blanket, they turned to head back for Smokey.
‘No worries, mate,’ he said as he staggered up the track towards them. ‘Busted me tin leg, but I can still flaming walk.’ His face was grey and as he stumbled and almost fell, Sam caught him and picked him up and carried him.
‘Don’t you tell the blokes in the pub about this,’ Smokey muttered against Sam’s chest. ‘Never flaming live it down.’
*
The hospital in Cairns had thankfully been spared the worst of the storm. Every nurse and doctor had been called in and the accident and emergency department was under siege. Volunteers were doing the best they could, but there seemed no let up in the flood of people needing help. The three operating theatres were working flat out, and the flying doctor’s plane had already made four landings on the airstrip. Cairn’s single ambulance couldn’t keep up with the demand, and now there were utility trucks, lorries and cars parked haphazardly out front as more casualties were brought in.
William paced the corridor unable to settle or think straight. Irene’s injuries must be worse than he’d thought for it to take so long. He finally came to a halt and stood, unseeing in front of the window. Night had fallen but a stream of light fell across the front entrance from the hospital building. He emerged from his gloomy thoughts as a utility truck screeched to a halt outside. No doubt another casualty of the storm. The hospital had never been so busy.
He tensed as a man and woman climbed out and went to the back of the utility. That was Sam from Trinity, and the woman beside him looked very familiar. He peered out of the window as she stepped into the stream of light. It was Olivia. Galvanised into action, he raced down the corridor.
Olivia was walking beside a stretcher, the man lying there obviously badly injured. Sam was pushing a wheelchair, its incumbent grumbling and muttering. Olivia looked exhausted and filthy and was covered in scratches and bites. William waited until her two charges had been whisked away by the nurses before he approached her.
‘Olivia. Are you right?’
‘William?’ She seemed puzzled to find him there. ‘I’m fine except for the mosquito bites. What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘It’s Irene,’ he replied after nodding a greeting to Sam. ‘She’s bad, Olivia. I don’t know if she’ll pull through.’ He heard the tremor in his voice and knew he was close to tears.
‘Where is she?’
‘Operating room two,’ he said as he took off his hat and ran his shirt sleeve over his forehead. ‘Been in there for hours.’
‘I’ll be here a while,’ she said distractedly. The waiting area was in complete chaos. ‘Looks like they need all the help they can get.’ She flashed him a weary smile. ‘Let me know when she comes out of theatre and I’ll try and pop in to see her.’
‘She’d like that, I’m sure,’ he said eagerly.
Olivia frowned. ‘We really don’t have anything to say to one another,’ she said with a sigh. ‘But of course I’ll come and see her. She is my sister, after all.’
‘I’m sorry your reunion didn’t go too well. What were those papers, by the way? Perhaps I can help?’
‘I doubt it, but thanks anyway,’ said Olivia. She pushed back her hair and sighed as she watched the harried nurses trying to cope with the influx of patients. ‘Look, I’m sorry, William. I’m tired and filthy and this is neither the time, or place, to go over old wounds.’
William realised he would get no further with Olivia tonight. She was preoccupied and needed elsewhere. ‘Just promise me you’ll find time to see her,’ he said.
Olivia nodded before turning away to talk to Sam. ‘I’ll stay here until the panic’s died down. You go back to Trinity and make sure Giles is all right.’
‘Flying doctor will probably have been by now,’ said Sam through a vast yawn. ‘If it’s serious enough you’ll probably see him yourself.’
William watched her walk away. Within minutes of talking to a harassed doctor, she was greeted with relief and sent to look at her first patient. ‘Reckon I’ll be getting back to Irene,’ he mumbled.
‘See you later, mate.’ Sam loped out of the hospital and climbed into the ute.
William returned to pacing the corridor outside the operating room. It was to be another hour before the doctor emerged through the swing doors.
He took off his mask, his eyes weary, colour wan in the harsh electric light. ‘Your wife’s in a bad way, Bill,’ he said sadly. ‘Sorry, mate, but her brain’s been damaged. She’s alive, but only just, and if she does pull through, she’ll never leave her bed.’
William had to sit down. ‘Brain damage?’ he gasped. ‘I knew it was serious when she couldn’t talk, but surely there must be something you can do to repair the damage?’
The doctor shook his head. ‘This is a country hospital. She’s in too bad a way to fly her down to Sydney, and even if we did, I doubt they could do more for her.’ He gave a weary sigh and dry scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘Sorry to load you with this, Bill, but at least her legs will heal in time.’
‘Fat lot of good they’ll be if she can’t walk,’ William snarled.
The surgeon’s hand gripped his shoulder. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see. But I warn you, it’s touch and go.’
‘Jeez,’ he breathed. ‘Will she pull through, do you think?’
The doctor’s hand was suddenly heavy on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Bill. She’s very weak after losing all that blood. We aren’t out of the woods yet.’
William sank his chin to his chest and tried to digest the awful news. The guilt was overwhelming. If only he’d insisted upon her returning to Deloraine. If only he’d waited until after the hurricane to send her packing. If only – what a sad, useless phrase that was, he realised – for nothing could be changed.
He realised the doctor was impatient to return to theatre. ‘How soon will we know if she’ll pull through?’ he asked.
‘The next twenty four hours are the most critical. After that – it’s up to Irene.’ His face was sad. ‘But she’ll never walk again, Bill, and probably never talk either. You must be prepared for the worst.’
‘Then it would probably be better if she didn’t make it through,’ William sighed. Irene would prefer death to a living hell of silence and immobility.’
The doctor shrugged. ‘It never ceases to amaze me how even the sickest person clings to life, Bill. Irene’s strong. She may surprise you.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Gotta go, mate. Busy night.’
William watched him stride down the corridor and push through a door. He sat there, numb with shock, the thoughts whirling in his head. The future he’d planned with Martha had been ripped to shreds by the hurricane. If Irene did survive the next few hours, she would need round the clock care – and as it was his fault she’d been injured in the first place, it was up to him to see she had the best care he could provide – and a proper home to return to. He would have to begin making arrangements to adapt Deloraine.
21
Giles knew he’d been lucky. The flying doctor had taken him up to Cairns for treatment, but the x–rays revealed only a dislocated hip joint and a hairline fracture in his leg. Getting the hip back into position had been a momentary agony that was soon eased with medication, and once his leg had been put in plaster, he felt he was taking up a hospital bed on false pretences.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Olivia on one of her evening visits. ‘Your hip must still be painful and you need to rest it a while before walking on it – the plaster cast will only add further stress to the weakened area.’
Giles took her hand. ‘Talking of rest,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ve been on the go for over two weeks. You look completely shattered.’
‘I can go on a bit longer,’ she said as she smothered a yawn. ‘The worst is over.’
‘You’re supposed to be on holiday,’ he reminded
her.
‘This trip was never meant to be a holiday,’ she said as she smoothed back her hair beneath the neat little white cap. ‘And I’ve achieved nothing, really. Now, with Irene incapable of little more than eye contact, I doubt I’ll ever get to the bottom of the mystery.’
Giles lit a cheroot and reached for the ashtray on the bedside chest. ‘Mystery is right,’ he mumbled. ‘Never did tell me what all that was about.’ He eyed her keenly. She did look tired. Her eyes were shadowed with weariness and her mouth drooped. ‘Want to tell me about it?’
Olivia tucked the sheet more firmly beneath the mattress, plucked the cheroot from his fingers and stubbed it out. ‘No point,’ she said. ‘Irene’s the only one with the answers, and she’s barely alive.’ She stood and kissed him softly on the cheek. ‘I’ve got to go, Giles. Night shift, you know. But I’ll try and pop in tomorrow morning before I go to bed.’
Giles stayed her by catching her wrist. ‘I realise I spoke out of turn, Ollie, but I never wanted to lose our friendship.’ He saw the flicker of something in her eyes and her expression softened.
‘You’ll never lose that,’ she said with infinite sweetness. ‘I do love you, Giles, but not in the way you want. I’m sorry. I really wish things could have been different.’
Giles leaned back into the pillows and his smile was sad. ‘At least we both know where we stand with one another now,’ he said.
Olivia kissed his forehead and stepped away. With mock severity, she wagged a finger at him. ‘Standing is the last thing you can do,’ she said. ‘If I catch you trying to walk before the injuries heal, you’ll have me to answer to.’
He couldn’t help but grin. ‘Bossy as always,’ he teased.
She grinned back. Then, with a glance at the watch pinned to her apron, she backed away. ‘Must go. Terribly late already and matron will have my guts for garters.’
She blew him a kiss and he watched her leave the ward. Watched her greet the handsome young doctor and laugh at something he said. Saw the animation enliven her face and the spring in her step as they walked away and out of sight. He’d seen that doctor many times during the two weeks he’d been here, and had heard the rumours. He seemed to be hanging around whenever Olivia was on the ward, and Giles had noticed how keen he was to engage her in conversation. The feeling appeared to be mutual.
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