Summer Kisses: The Rebel Doctor's Bride. Sarah Morgan
Jayne started to scream and the sound had a thin, inhuman quality that cut through the summer air and brought horrified silence to the normally bustling quay. Then she tried to launch herself into the water again and Flora winced as Jayne’s flying fist caught her on the side of her head. She was too slight to hold the woman, her head throbbed and she was just about to resign herself to the fact that Jayne was going to jump when two burly local fishermen came to her aid.
They drew a sobbing, struggling Jayne away from the edge of the quay and Flora gave them a grateful nod. Whatever happened next, Jayne being in the water would only make things worse.
Oblivious to the audience or the building tension, Conner vanished under the water. Time and time again he dived, while strangers and locals stood huddled in groups, watching the drama unfold.
Offering what comfort she could, Flora took Jayne’s hand. ‘Conner will find her,’ she said firmly, praying desperately that she was right. ‘Conner will find her.’ If she said it often enough, perhaps it would happen.
‘Conner?’ Shivering violently and still restrained by the fishermen, Jayne looked at Flora blankly, as if she hadn’t realised until this point who was trying to rescue her daughter. ‘Conner MacNeil?’
‘He’s in the water now,’ Flora said gently, wondering whether Jayne was going into shock. Her eyes were glazed and her face white. ‘He’s looking for her, Jayne.’
‘Conner? When has he ever put his life on the line for anyone? He won’t help her. He won’t help my baby.’ Her eyes suddenly wild with terror, Jayne developed superhuman strength, wrenched herself from the hold of the two men and hurled herself towards the edge of the quay once again.
The two men quickly grabbed her and she wriggled and pulled, struggling to free herself. ‘Get the coastguard, anyone—Oh, God, no, no.’ She collapsed, sobbing and Flora slid her arms round her, this time keeping her body between Jayne and the quay.
‘Jayne, you’re no help to Lily if you fall in, too. Leave it to Conner. You have to trust Conner.’
‘Who in their right mind would trust Conner MacNeil?’
‘I would,’ Flora said simply, and realised that it was true. ‘I’d trust him with my life.’
‘Then you’re obviously infatuated with him,’ Jayne shrieked, ‘like every other woman who comes close to him.’ But she sagged against Flora, her energy depleted by the extravagant surge of emotion.
Infatuated?
Dismissing the accusation swiftly, Flora stared at the surface of the water but there was no movement and a couple of tourists standing next to her started to murmur dire predictions. She turned and glared at them just as there was a sound from the water and Conner surfaced, the limp, lifeless body of the child in his arms. He sucked in air and then hauled himself onto the concrete steps with one hand, his other arm holding the child protectively against his chest.
Lily lay still, her soaked dress darkened by blood, her hair streaked with it.
Flora felt panic, jagged and dangerous. Oh no, please no.
There were no signs of life. None.
Next to her Jayne started to moan like a creature tormented and then the sound stopped as she slid to the concrete in a faint.
‘Leave her,’ Conner ordered, climbing the steps out of the water, the body of the child still in his arms. Lily’s head hung backwards and her skin was a dull grey colour. ‘Someone else can look after her and at the moment she’s better off out of it. Get me a towel, Flora. With the blood and the water, I can’t see what we’re dealing with here.’
A towel?
Feeling sick and shaky, Flora scanned the crowd and focused on two tourists who were loaded down with beach items. ‘Give me your towel.’ Without waiting for their permission, she yanked the towel out of the bag, spilling buckets and spades over the quay. Then she was on her knees beside Conner.
Lily lay pale and lifeless, her tiny body still, like a puppet that had been dropped. Blood spurted like a fountain from a wound on her leg.
‘It’s an artery.’ With a soft curse Conner pressed down hard. ‘I’m guessing she gashed it on the propeller as she fell. She’s lucky the engine wasn’t on.’ He increased the pressure in an attempt to stop the bleeding. ‘She’s stopped breathing.’
Flora almost stopped breathing, too. Panic pressed in on her and without Connor’s abrupt commands she would have shrivelled up and sobbed, just as Jayne had. Perhaps he realised that she was on the verge of falling apart because he lifted his head and glared at her, his blue eyes fierce with determination.
‘Press here! I need to start CPR. Flora, move!’
She stared at him for a moment, so stunned by the enormity of what was happening she couldn’t respond.
‘Pull yourself together!’ His tone was sharp. ‘If we’re to stand any chance here, I need some help, and you’re the only person who knows what they’re doing. Everyone else is just gawping.’
Flora felt suddenly dizzy. She’d never seen so much blood in her life. She’d never worked in A and E and all the first-aid courses she’d attended had been theoretical. She didn’t know what she was doing.
And then she realised that he did. Conner knew exactly what he was doing and she knelt down beside him.
‘Tell me what you want me to do.’
‘Press here. Like that. That’s it—good.’ He put her hands on the wound, showed her just how hard he wanted her to press, and then shifted slightly so that he could focus on the child’s breathing. With one hand on her forehead and the other under her chin, he gently tilted Lily’s head back and covered her mouth with his, creating a seal. He breathed gently, watching as the child’s chest rose.
Then he lifted his mouth and watched as Lily’s chest fell as the air came out. ‘Flora, get a tourniquet on that leg. She’s losing blood by the bucketload.’
‘A tourniquet?’ Flora turned to the nearest tourist. ‘Get me a bandage or a tie, something—anything—I can wind around her leg.’
The man simply stared at her, but his wife moved swiftly, jerking the tie from the neck of a businessman who had been waiting to take the ferry.
Flora didn’t dare release the pressure on Lily’s leg. ‘If I let go to tie it, she’s going to bleed.’ Feeling horribly ignorant, she sent Conner a helpless glance. ‘I haven’t done this before. Do I put it directly over the wound?’
‘Above the wound. You need a stick or something to twist it tight. Tie it and leave a gap and tie it again.’
Flora swiftly did as he instructed. The towel was soaked in blood and her fingers were slippery with it and shaking.
‘The bleeding’s not stopping Conner,’ she muttered, and he glanced across at her, his expression hard.
‘You need to tighten it. More pressure. Get a stick.’
She glanced at the uneven surface of the quay. ‘There’s no stick!’
‘Then use something else!’ He glared at the group of tourists standing nearest to them. ‘Find a stick of some sort! A kid’s spade, a cricket stump—anything we can use.’
‘The blood is everywhere.’ Flora tried to twist the tie tighter but the bleeding was relentless and she felt a sob build in her throat. It just seemed hopeless. Completely hopeless. ‘She’s four years old, Conner.’ She was ready to give up but Conner placed the heel of his hand over the child’s sternum.
‘She’s hypovolaemic. She needs fluid and she needs it fast.’ He pushed down. ‘Where the hell is the air ambulance?’
Someone thrust a stick into Flora’s hand and