The Doctor & the Runaway Heiress

CHAPTER TEN

THEY didn’t swap crews. There was no need. Riley simply held himself distant.

Pippa was introduced to full crew membership and she loved it. She loved the work, she loved the remote clinics, and after a couple of days she figured she and Riley could handle a professional, working relationship.

They were both good at holding themselves contained. Practice.

On Tuesday they did a retrieval upcountry-a truck had rolled with three kids in the back. It took all their medical skills to get a good outcome-three kids recovering in Sydney Central-and it felt fantastic.

She could do this.

The house was trickier.

Amy’s Jason arrived late on Wednesday night, dusty and worn from hitchhiking for six hundred miles.

‘I couldn’t wait any longer to see my kid,’ he said simply. ‘I’ll sleep on the beach; I don’t need a bed.’

His boss had told him he could take time off to settle Amy and the baby. Amy was so proud she looked like she might burst, so there was now another mattress on the floor. The pair sat and watched their baby slowly work her way through her jaundice. They waited every night for Riley to tell them she was doing well.

Lucy and Adam sat on the veranda, read their birthing books and practised the breathing Amy proudly taught them-and waited every night for Riley to tell them they were doing well.

They depended on him.

Except… they didn’t. None of them depended on him. Not really, Riley thought as the week wore on. Because there was Pippa.

She was like the sun with planets spinning around her. She was the life of the house.

She was embracing life like she’d never realised she was alive until this moment, soaking up every moment of this new, wonderful world she found herself in. Her joy was impossible not to share.

Except he didn’t share it. Not if he could help it, because it seemed like a void. It seemed a sweet, sensual lure, a vortex that if he entered he’d end up as he’d ended up twenty years before when he’d met Marguerite.

Maybe he wouldn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t brave enough to find out.

Thursday night. He was on the beach, looking back to the house. Pippa’s curtains were left undrawn. The lights were on and he could see them all. They were squashed on the divans, watching television. Pippa had been making popcorn when he’d left. He could see them passing bowls. Laughing.

He’d go back soon. He was necessary in the house. He had to sort Lucy’s life. He had to check Amy’s baby.

He was useful.

He was… loved?

No. Love was an illusion. Something that happened to others, not to him.

He didn’t need it.

He had everything he needed-his medicine, his surf, his independence. He’d set Lucy and Adam up in their own place. Next Thursday Amy would go back to Dry Gum. Pippa would move out.

The ripples in his calm existence would roll to the edges and disappear.

He glanced again at the lit windows and thought he could be in there.

Pippa. Child of money. A siren song.

Stay outside, for as long as it takes.

She knew he was out there but there wasn’t anything she could do. He didn’t want to be a part of this house.

If it wasn’t for Riley, she’d be loving it.

Pippa had gone from general nursing training to Surgical, and then to Intensive Care. Then a case one night had touched her more deeply than she cared to admit. A woman had come in to have her fifth child. During second stage her uterus had ruptured.

Emergency Caesarean. They’d lost the baby and the mother had come so close to death it didn’t bear thinking about. Pippa had cared for her in Intensive Care. She’d watched the little family’s terror, and their grief for the little life lost.

Five children and each one the most precious thing in the world.

The following day she’d put in her application for Midwifery, she loved it and here was the perfect midwife job. She was caring for Amy with her newborn baby, and at the same time she was preparing Lucy for birth.

Lucy was like a sponge, listening to everything Pippa told her, reading, reading, reading about childbirth, and Adam was almost as eager. But what was more wonderful was that Amy was teaching Lucy. In Amy Lucy had a teenaged ally who’d gone through birth only a week before, who scorned her fears as garbage.

‘It’s like a teenage antenatal clinic,’ Pippa told Riley six days after Lucy arrived, and then winced as Riley grunted a sharp response and went on to do what he had to do.

He was doing exactly that-what he had to do. He was organising life for Lucy and Adam. He was watching Baby Riley’s progress. He was making sure Lucy had all her checks; that everything was done that had to be done.

There were enough practical tasks necessary for Riley to deflect emotion.

He’d get his life back soon enough, Pippa thought as the end of the first week neared. In one more week they’d take Amy home and Pippa would have no reason to stay. Then all Riley had to do was sort out a relationship with his daughter, and that had nothing to do with her.

His solitary life suited him.

She had to respect that.

So she’d move out and she’d be more professional than… than… Who did she know who was strictly professional? Who did she know who had no emotional attachment at all?

Riley?

Not Riley. Or not the Riley she knew.

But the Riley he almost certainly wanted to be.

Saturday afternoon. Riley was in the Flight-Aid headquarters, not because he needed to be but because three women and two men and one baby were sun-baking on his veranda. There was no way he was joining them. It wasn’t a trap but it felt like it.

They’d be talking babies, he told himself, quashing guilt. There was no need for him to be there.

But there was no need for him to be here either-he could be on call at home-so when a call came he grabbed the radio with relief.

‘All stops.’ Harry sounded frightened, which, for Harry, was amazing. ‘Kid stuck in a crevice off the rocks south of McCarthy’s Sound. Tide’s coming in, water’s rising and he’s at risk of drowning. I’m calling Pippa. Take off in two minutes whether you’re on board or not.’

They had six minutes in the chopper to take in the information being relayed to them. Harry had met them looking as grim as death and he had reason.

‘The kid slipped off a ledge while his dad was fishing. The cliff’s not sheer but it’s crumbling sandstone, so he slid and bumped, which is why he wasn’t killed outright. Just before water level there’s a bunch of rocks. He’s gone straight down a crevice. He can’t get up. In breaks between waves they’ve heard him screaming. His dad tried to get down and fell-probable broken ankle. He only just managed to get up himself. The local abseiling club’s trying to get their members there but no one’s available and the tide’s coming in. The report was hysterical-seems he’s below the high-tide mark.’

It was enough to make them all shut up.

Pippa and Riley sat in the back-this was where they’d operate from if they needed to lower someone to the scene.

Pippa felt ill. Was she ready?

With Cordelia remaining off work she’d been catapulted into the team with little training, but even with the emotional undercurrents, Riley had worked at getting her professional. It had been a quiet week, which was just as well.

She’d learned to operate the winch as Riley was lowered. She’d been lowered herself. She knew the right way to make physical contact with a patient for retrieval. She knew how to operate harnesses. She knew, in theory, all she needed to make her a viable member of the rescue outfit.

But for a call such as this…

They should have called Mardi, she thought, or another of the members of the second crew. But there’d been no time. Mardi was five minutes away. In the doctor’s house, she was right there.

‘We’re almost there,’ Riley said, watching her face, knowing what she was thinking. ‘You can do this, Pippa.’

Of course she could. There was no choice-but what was before them took her breath away.

People were clustered on the cliff top. A police car. An ambulance. Half a dozen people.

Even from here she could pick out the father. Someone was holding him back from the edge. He was kneeling, screaming, sobbing.

Another car was pulling up. A woman. Kids.

She couldn’t hear the screaming, but she felt it. She watched the woman run to the cliff edge, the policeman hold her back. She watched her crumple.

A part of the cliff seemed to have fallen away, making a rough ledge of rocks at the base, huge boulders scattered randomly. There’d been strong winds for the last two days and the sea was stirred up crazily. The wind had eased now, but the sea was still vicious. It was crashing into the boulders at the foot of the cliff.

Somewhere amongst those boulders was a child.

‘He’s eight years old,’ Harry said over the radio. ‘Name’s Mickey.’

‘If I go down, can we get directions to exactly where he is?’ Riley demanded. ‘Get the father on the radio. Have someone hold him while he watches but if he saw his kid go he’ll be the only person who can pinpoint exactly where he is. Pippa, you’re in charge up here. Total control. You know you can do it.’

Did she know? Of course she did. She gulped.

How long did normal paramedics have to train? Not six days.

‘’Course she can,’ Harry said, injecting forced lightness into his voice. ‘Or you can come up front and pilot the chopper while I do it. Piece of cake. Just hover and don’t hit anything.’

‘I think maybe I ought to hold Riley’s winch,’ Pippa said faintly. ‘I’m not all that good at hovering.’

‘You never know what you can do until you try,’ Riley said, and he caught her gaze and held. ‘We accepted you into this crew because you’re good, Pippa. Now’s the time to prove it.’

It was the longest five minutes of her life.

She operated the winch while Riley was lowered carefully down to the rocks. Despite what Harry said about ‘just hover and don’t hit anything’, she knew it took huge skill to hold the chopper steady. They were so close to the cliff. The people on the cliff top were forced to move back as Harry took the chopper almost to ground level to give Riley minimum swing as he lowered himself down.

The father’s voice crackled over the radio, thick with sobs.

‘The big rock to the north of where he is. A couple more yards. Yeah, down there, between that one and the flat one to its side. Oh, God, there’s a wave…’

Riley had reached ground level. He was on the flat rock, no longer swinging from the harness. He was on his stomach, peering down. Waves were breaking over the rocks, not much, intermittently, but Pippa thought, How far had the child slipped? How far was the water going in?

‘Mickey.’ They heard Riley through his headset. He was bracing himself against the wash, trying to see. He’d taken his flashlight down with him and Pippa could imagine him peering down into the void.

‘H-help.’ It was a child’s whisper, choking off, and through the radio system they heard it clearly.

Dear God…

‘Can you catch a rope, mate, if I throw it down to you? It’s a harness. You can loop it under your arms.’

‘My hands… I can’t… One of them’s behind me. It won’t… I can’t get it out. The other doesn’t… I can’t…’ There was a muffled sob and then a gasp.

Riley was pushing himself down into the chasm, reaching as far as he could. Swearing. ‘Hold on, mate. Hold on.’

Another wave. A scream cut short.

‘Dear God…’

He had no choice. He was as far into the chasm as he could reach. The water was swirling round his face, sucking back out of the chasm. There’d be more waves coming.

He couldn’t reach.

He couldn’t reach!

He was wasting time. There was no way he could haul the child free. If he pushed himself any further, they’d both drown.

There was one choice and one choice only.

It nearly killed him. To ask her…

He had no choice.

‘Pippa?’ It was Riley, using a voice she didn’t recognise. She’d seen the sea wash over him. She’d thought… She’d thought…

‘I’m here.’ Of course she was. Every sense was tuned to the drama below. She felt like retching.

This was no time for retching.

‘He’s more than a metre out of reach,’ Riley said, and she could feel his anguish. But still his words were clipped and decisive.

‘I can’t get in-the chasm’s too narrow and my chest’s too wide. The sea’s rising-that last wave went over his head and I damn near stuck. There’s only one way we can do this. I’m unfastening the harness. Harry, get onto the cliff and pick up one of the cops-they’ll know how to operate the winch. Then, Pippa, I need you to get down here. You’re half my size across the shoulders. Do you have the courage to be lowered feet first to grab him? We wait five minutes and we lose him. Even now… Can you do this?’

‘Yes.’ No hesitation.

‘Of course she can,’ Harry said. ‘Get that harness off, Chase, so we can get it onto Pippa. We’re moving.’

To ask her to do this…

He had no choice. Not if the child was to live.

But to ask it of Pippa… To ask it of anyone…

Watch the sea.

‘We’re coming,’ he called to the child below, not knowing if he was still capable of hearing. ‘Hold on, mate. Pippa’s coming.’

Riley was on the ledge with no harness. A wave could wash in at any time. Below him was a child, trapped where the sea washed in and out.

Pippa’s fear for them both didn’t leave room for any fear for herself.

Besides, there were things to do. Fear was for later. She had the winch up and was wearing the harness by the time they landed on the cliff top. A burly sergeant ran forward, was in the chopper, was demanding instructions as the chopper lifted off. Harry had forewarned him.

‘I know the basics,’ he said. ‘Quick run-through?’

See one, do one, teach one? Pippa had to choke back a hysterical laugh. Surely this was the mantra at its most dangerous. Harry and Riley had spent a couple of hours teaching her about winching. They’d intended to do more with her but that initial teaching was all she had.

So she’d seen one. She was about to do one. Her life, and Riley’s and Mickey’s, depended on her teaching one as well.

But needs must and it all flooded back to her, the mantra Riley had drilled in. Steadiness, keeping control at all times, watching the wind, being ready to re-winch at any moment, watching for sway, safety, safety, safety.

The sergeant was good, calm and unflappable, or maybe he was as good at hiding panic as she was. By the time Harry had the chopper centred again over Riley and the child below, he was behind the winch, putting his hand on her shoulder as if it was she who was the trainee.

Maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding panic as she’d thought.

‘You can do it, girl,’ the big policeman said, calmly and steadily. ‘We know you can. Pom, aren’t you? Never mind, even if you guys are hopeless at cricket, I reckon you can do this. You can sing “Rule Britannia” all the way down.’

She almost laughed.

But then she was slipping out of the chopper, her feet were no longer touching anything and she was heading down to Riley. She was no longer even close to laughing.

The last time she’d hung above the sea her life was being saved. Now…

Concentrate. Do not sway. Hold yourself firm, steady; Harry and the sergeant can only do so much, you have to do the rest. Head straight down.

Riley was below her.

Down, down-and he caught her. A wave washed over the rock as she landed and she gasped with the shock of the cold water-but Riley had her, holding her, steadying her.

‘It’s okay. You’re safe, Pippa. But Mickey’s not and we need to work fast.’ He shone the flashlight down and she could see a shock of red hair, a child crumpled into an impossibly narrow crevice.

‘Mickey,’ Riley called, and there was no response.

‘I can’t get down to him and he’s drowning,’ Riley said, and she heard the desperation in his voice. The water from the last wave was being sucked out of the crevice now. How far had it come up?

‘I’m watching the sea. At the next break you go down head first with me holding your feet,’ Riley said. ‘You’ll still wear the harness. If the crevice is too tight or another wave comes then I pull you straight out-this isn’t about losing you as well. You get the harness under his shoulders or you grab him any way you can and then you get out of there. Old surf mantra-every seventh wave is a biggie, and it seems to be working. Straight after the next biggie and you’re down.’

They were working as he spoke, adjusting her harness. He was looping ropes around her waist and shoulders, tying them so he had a rope on either side of her.

‘Wait,’ he said as she stooped, and it nearly killed her to wait-and it nearly killed him as well.

Then, as the next big wave struck, he held her tight, hard against him, so the wave couldn’t move them. His body gave her courage. He gave her courage.

The wave rocked them, filled the crevice, and she thought, Mickey, Mickey…

The wave sucked out again. Deep breath. And then… Riley gave her a hard, swift kiss as the water cleared from around their legs. The kiss was a blessing.

Then she was on her knees, stooping, leaning in…

Letting go.

Riley held her. Her hands touched the side of the crevice, feeling her way straight down. Hauling herself in. She couldn’t worry about the waves-that was Riley’s lookout.

She trusted him.

It was so tight-she had to hunch her shoulders as hard as she could to squeeze down.

She had no room to work with a torch and her body blocked the light.

Her hands touched Mickey’s hair. She pushed herself further down, fighting to get a hold on his shoulders. He was crammed in hard. Maybe he’d wriggled to get out, wedging himself in further.

‘Mickey…’

No response. He’d have been under water, over and over.

His shoulders were hunched forward like hers. In front of his clavicle… a tiny amount of wriggle room.

She got her hands down under, gripping like death.

She couldn’t fasten a rope. No room. She grabbed handfuls of his windcheater and tugged. He didn’t move. She firmed her hold.

‘Pull,’ she yelled at Riley, and he pulled and the child shifted. If she could hold him…

She couldn’t, he was too heavy, the grip of the rocks too great. But he was up far enough now for her to get a harness around him. Sort of.

She was holding and tying, keeping the deadweight steady, and if anyone asked her afterwards how she’d done it, she could never tell them. She didn’t know.

All she knew was that she wasn’t letting go. If the water came in now she was still holding on for dear life.

The water did come in, but not enough to reach her, not enough either to cover Mickey’s head, not now she’d tugged him a little higher. Oh, but he was so limp.

She couldn’t think that. She could only think harness.

She had him. She was fastened to Riley. Mickey was fastened to her. They were going to have to rise as one. If Mickey came out without support… if his head fell sideways and caught… if another wave twisted him…

There was no winch on top. Only Riley. Would he have the strength?

Like her, he had no choice.

‘Pull,’ she yelled, and she felt her harness tighten. She held to Mickey for dear life. His harness held…

And she felt the rocks release them.

She came free just as another wave hit. She hauled Mickey up and they were out. Riley was holding her, holding Mickey, they were falling backwards against the rocks, simply holding until the sucking power of the wave eased.

And the moment it did Riley was working on Mickey.

There was no room for the niceties of a mask. ‘Breathe for him,’ he snapped as he set Mickey down on the highest piece of rock so they could work on him. ‘I’m on chest and wave watching.’

He still had to watch the sea. If another wave hit, they’d have to stop to hold on. There was no point in getting Mickey breathing again if they were all to be washed back into the waves.

So Riley watched the sea but still he worked, compressing his chest as steadily as if he was in the emergency department of her training hospital. All his focus was on the little boy’s chest.

She checked Mickey’s airway again-she’d done a fast check and given him a quick first breath as they’d come out of the crevice but now she had time to be careful. She breathed.

If Riley could be steady, so could she. If Riley wasn’t panicking, neither would she.

She had her fingers on the boy’s carotid artery. Feeling desperate.

A pulse?

It was barely there but she was sure she’d felt it.

‘Pulse. Don’t even think about stopping,’ she told Riley, but he barely acknowledged her. He kept working. When the next big wave hit they worked as one, lifting the child, holding him high, bracing themselves against the rock. Pippa kept on breathing as much as she could. Riley’s chest compressions were more hugs during the worst of the wave. As the wave receded Mickey was down on the ledge again and they kept right on.

And then… the little boy stirred. His chest heaved.

He took a gasping, searing gulp of air, and Riley had him on his side in an instant.

He was horribly, wonderfully sick.

And then, amazingly, he started to cry.

Pippa was beside him, on the rock, her face almost touching his. She held him tight as the water washed over the rock’s surface. She was making sure his airway wasn’t blocked. This time the wave wasn’t high enough to be threatening.

How could anything threaten them now?

‘You’re safe, Mickey,’ she said, holding him close as his retching eased. ‘Doc Riley’s come in his helicopter and we’ve rescued you. Your mum and dad are on the top of the cliff. The helicopter’s lowering a stretcher right now so we can pull you up. How cool to tell the kids at school you were rescued with a helicopter? You just stay still and let me hold you until we get you back to your mum.’

She was amazing.

Pippa…

Riley stood back as Mickey was embraced by his family. He’d done what needed to be done. Mickey’s airway was clear, he had oxygen flowing-he was conscious and lucid so there appeared to be no long-term threat from his near drowning. He had a fractured arm and maybe further fractures to his pelvis and ribs but nothing life-threatening. The painkillers were taking effect. He was almost managing to smile.

His mother was holding his good hand and she didn’t look like she’d let go any time soon.

His father was hugging Pippa. He didn’t look like he was letting go any time soon either. He was sobbing and Pippa was holding him tight, cradling him like she’d cradled Mickey down on the ledge. Soon Riley needed to work on him-he was sure the guy’s ankle was fractured-but the man wasn’t worried about his own pain. He was only worried about his son.

‘It’s okay. He’s safe,’ Pippa told him.

‘If not for you… I don’t know how we can thank you.’

‘Hey, Doc Riley held my legs and watched the waves. It’s Riley who’s the hero. Plus my gym back in England. How cool that I lost a little weight for my wedding?’ She set him back a little, smiling. ‘Happy endings. I love ’em. By the way, did you guys catch any fish?’

‘I… Yes.’ The paramedics were loading Mickey into the ambulance. Riley was helping, but Pippa’s conversation had him distracted.

‘How many?’ Pippa demanded, and Riley blinked. He was thinking of giving the guy some morphine; Pippa was thinking about fish?

‘We caught three,’ the man managed.

‘What sort?’

‘Whiting.’

‘Oh, yum, are these them?’ She seized a fishing basket and peered inside.

‘Yes, they are,’ the man said, and Riley realised what Pippa was doing. She was dragging him back from the nightmare into a fragment of reality.

Mickey’s mother was holding Mickey. The paramedics were making sure he was immobilised for the journey. Riley had his pain under control; there was a moment for normality to resurface and Pippa was making the most of it.

‘I guess you guys won’t be eating fish for tea tonight,’ she said, sounding suddenly wistful. And a little bit cheeky. ‘What with having to sit around hospitals waiting for Mickey to get a cast. And you might need one on your foot. That’ll take ages. I guess you’ll have to eat dinner at the hospital cafeteria.’

The man took a deep breath. He looked at his wife and son. He looked at his other kids-three littlies being held by someone who might be an aunt. He looked back at Pippa.

He looked at his fish and Riley saw the instant when nightmare moved to thought. Pippa had found her reality.

‘Would you like a fish?’ the man asked.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said, and she chuckled.

She was incorrigible, Riley thought. She was soaking wet-how she wasn’t shivering was a wonder. There was an ugly graze on the side of her face where she’d thumped against the rock on the way up or down. Her knuckles had lost skin.

Her hair was dripping wetly down her back. She looked about ten years old.

But her smile was enough to make anyone smile. To make anyone’s nightmares recede.

He’d been comparing her to Marguerite? He was out of his mind.

‘You can have all three,’ the fisherman said, handing over his basket. ‘They’re great fish.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Oh, and I have a huge family I can feed them to,’ Pippa said, beaming, gathering them to her like gold. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘You saved my son.’

‘And you gave me fish.’ She kissed the guy, lightly on the cheek. ‘It looks like Mickey’s ready to go. Let Doc Riley check your foot and then into the ambulance with you. Oh, and do your fishing a hundred feet from the edge from now on.’

‘I’m buying my fish from the fish and chip shop,’ he growled-but the man was smiling. Everyone was smiling. Everyone had heard the interchange. Even Mickey…

‘So can we buy shop chips?’ the little boy ventured, and his mother burst into tears. But she was smiling through her tears.

‘Happy endings,’ Pippa said in satisfaction, heading back to the chopper with her haul of fish. ‘I love ’em.’

And when the ambulance moved away, as their chopper rose, she made Riley leave the slide open. She kept her harness on. They rose and she leaned out as far as Riley permitted.

She had a fish in each hand and she waved goodbye with fish.

Cheering.

Then she settled back into the chopper with her basket of fish on her knee. And beamed.

And Riley…

The armour he’d surrounded himself with for years, the protective barriers which let him want no one, need no one, were gone.

Pippa.

She could have drowned.

He was totally exposed.

She was taking her fish home to her family, Riley thought, dazed. Her family.

That would be Amy and Jason and Baby Riley. And Lucy and Adam.

And him?

Yeah. Tonight it would be him.

There was no way he was not being part of those fish.

Mickey was being taken by road to Sydney. He’d need specialist orthopaedic care so there was no medical need for either Riley or Pippa to stay involved. Harry started his routine check of the chopper. Riley and Pippa walked back to the house. They needed a shower. They needed a change of clothes. They also needed to talk, Riley thought, but he didn’t know where to start.

What had just happened?

He’d lowered a slip of a girl into a chasm and he hadn’t known if they could all survive. As simple as that. If the sea had turned on them…

There’d been no choice. The alternative had been impossible to contemplate-to leave Mickey to drown. But he’d had to ask Pippa to risk her life and she’d come up laughing.

She’d come up talking of fish and of family.

He was feeling like he’d shed something he’d barely known he had. He felt light and free and… bewildered.

He was carrying her fish. He was caught up in his thoughts, so it was Pippa who saw Amy first. She paused and looked across as Amy yelled wildly from the veranda.

‘Will you two hurry up? We’re having a baby.’