Australia: Handsome Heroes: His Secret Love-Child. Lilian Darcy

drive into town so they could be at the hospital when the kids were brought in. She worked with the police sergeant who’d come to assist the white-faced officers who’d been first on the scene, getting details from shocked relatives. The bodies had to stay where they were until the coroner arrived.

      She worked.

      Finally the helicopter returned and by the time it did, she had her two remaining patients ready to go. She’d hauled the stretchers from the road ambulance she and Cal had come in, so the moment the chopper landed she had them ready to carry on board. Mike was the pilot. He swung out to help her. There was another paramedic or doctor in the back, receiving the patients, but there was no time for introductions.

      ‘Let’s go,’ Mike told her.

      She glanced one last time at the mess left for the police to handle—the detritus of wasted lives—and then she concentrated on the living. She climbed up into the chopper herself. Moving on.

      If only it was that easy.

      Someone—a big man with a Scottish accent that was apparent the moment he opened his mouth—was organising the securing of the stretchers. He talked over his shoulder to Gina as Mike fastened himself back into the pilot’s seat.

      ‘You’ll be Gina,’ he said briefly, hanging the boy’s drip from the stand built into the side of the chopper. ‘I’m Dr Hamish McGregor. Call me Hamish.’

      ‘William’s IV line’s not stable. And his leg…’

      ‘I’m noticing that, and it’s my problem.’ Hamish was making a calm assessment of each patient. And of her. ‘You look like death and I’m taking over. If I need you, I’ll say so. Meanwhile, sit back and close your eyes.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Just do it.’

      She did. She buckled her seat belt and closed her eyes, and suddenly nausea washed over her in a wave so intense that she needed to push her head down between her knees to stop herself passing out.

      Hamish eyed her with concern but he left her to it. Every doctor in the world had these moments. They came with the job.

      So for a while Gina simply concentrated on not giving way to horror. On not letting the dizziness take over.

      Finally, though, the nausea passed. She took a few deep breaths and ventured—cautiously—to open her eyes again. The helicopter was in the air. The two kids seemed settled and Hamish was focussing on her.

      ‘So you’re Cal’s Gina,’ he said softly.

      ‘I…No.’

      ‘No?’

      ‘I’m just a doctor tonight,’ she said wearily, and then, because she couldn’t think of what else to say, she added, ‘Where’s Cal?’

      ‘Last time I saw him he was about to drill a burrhole to try and relieve raised cranial pressure,’ he told her. ‘It’s desperate surgery he’s doing. We’re damnably short-staffed. Every doctor at the base is doing two jobs or more tonight.’

      ‘So where did you come from?’

      The big Scot managed a lopsided smile. ‘I’m supposed to be on leave,’ he told her. ‘However, I made the mistake of telling people where I was. Charles radioed the skipper of the game-fishing boat I was on and they hauled me back to town with the boating equivalent of red lights and sirens. To be met by this.’

      ‘So you’re another doctor with the Remote Rescue Service.’ She frowned. ‘Hamish. The paediatrician?’

      ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Or I’m the best we can supply in the paediatric department. I have a post-grad qualification in paediatrics, as well as my accident and emergency training.’

      Great. That was another small weight lifted from her heart. All the time she’d been out here she’d been conscious of the tiny baby she’d left back at base, and now they had someone with paediatric training to take over. ‘You’ve seen Lucky?’

      ‘I have,’ he told her. ‘He’s looking stable. I’ll be heading back there fast to spend some more time with him. But you and Cal and Emily seem to have done a fine job. He has a fighting chance.’

      ‘I would have thought you’d have stayed while Em came out,’ she said, puzzled, and he grimaced.

      ‘Em’s in Theatre with Cal. He needs the best anaesthetist we have. Christina and Charles are with the two kids who arrived by road. That means we’re right out of doctors—apart from Alix, our pathologist, who’s just recovering from chickenpox. And we’ve even pulled her out of bed. So we had to take a chance on Lucky. Grace is specialling him. I came here. Sometimes in this place there’s not enough skill to go around and you need to make a hard call.’

      ‘I guess,’ she said, thinking bleakly of the number of times she’d had to leave her own son as she was leaving him now. As she’d have to walk away from Cal. So many choices…

      Think of something else, she told herself fiercely. Anything.

      ‘Do you know Cal well?’

      ‘Cal’s a friend.’

      ‘I didn’t think Cal had friends.’ Why was she asking this, she wondered, in the midst of this horror? But the boys they were transporting now were the least injured. They were heavily sedated and they both had parents gripping their undamaged hands, as if that link alone could keep them safe. There was time and space for the two medics to talk.

      And surprisingly Gina found she wanted to talk. In truth, she was desperate to talk. Anything but face the horrors of the night.

      Anything but Cal?

      But she’d asked.

      ‘Our Cal certainly keeps to himself,’ Hamish was saying. He cast an assessing look across at their patients but it appeared their respite could continue. ‘But…Gina, there’s things going on that I’m not understanding. I was barely back in town for two minutes before I was told you’ve produced Cal’s son. Cal’s son! Would that be right? Have you done that?’

      ‘Yes. But I’ll take him away again,’ Gina whispered. ‘I just wanted Cal to know he was alive. You don’t think I’m intending to cut in on his precious independence, do you?’

      His eyes grew thoughtful. ‘You know,’ he said softly, ‘it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you did.’

      ‘He’s getting along fine without me,’ Gina snapped. ‘He’s got a relationship with Emily.’

      ‘Has he, now?’ Hamish sent another assessing look across at their patients but both boys were breathing deep and evenly and there was no need to worry. One of the fathers had his head on his son’s hand, as if love alone could bring him through. ‘I wasn’t aware that he had such a thing,’ Hamish said softly. ‘And I know both Emily and Cal very well. Cal doesn’t have a relationship with anyone.’

      ‘But I thought…On the day I arrived here I found him…cuddling Emily.’

      Hamish thought about that for a bit. ‘Emily’s fiancé has just walked out on her,’ he said at last. ‘He’s saying he wants space, but in reality he’s found another woman. Em knows in her heart what’s happening, no matter how much she’s denying it. If Cal was cuddling Emily, I’d be guessing that it was just Cal picking up the pieces.’ He hesitated. ‘You know, picking up the pieces is what Cal’s best at,’ he remarked thoughtfully. ‘It’s what to do with them afterwards where he doesn’t exactly shine.’

      Gina blinked, and stared. Astonished. ‘You’re a paediatrician,’ she said slowly. ‘Not a psychiatrist.’

      ‘Everyone does everything at Crocodile Creek,’ Hamish told her, giving her a rueful smile. ‘There’s no such thing as delineation of roles. If we need a psychiatrist then I’ll be one. And I do consider Cal a friend. Even if it is a bit one-sided, if