It Happened One Night Shift. Amy Andrews

driver of the other car slammed on the brakes, swerving to avoid what Gareth could have sworn was certain collision. He waited for the crash and the sound of crunching metal but, thankfully, it never came. The taxi narrowly missed the other car, careening off the road and smashing into a tree.

      But now the oncoming car was in his lane and Gareth had to apply his brakes to prevent them crashing. Luckily the other driver had the good sense to swerve back into his own lane and they both came to a halt almost level with each other on their own sides of the road.

      Gareth, his heart pistoning like a jackhammer, automatically reached for his glove box and pulled out a bunch of gloves from a box he always kept there. He ripped his seat belt off and pushed open his door.

      ‘Are you okay, mate?’ he asked as he leapt out, his fingers already reaching for the mobile phone in his pocket as he mentally triaged the scene.

      He wrenched open the door of the other car, noticing absently it was a sleek-looking two-seater, to find a pair of huge brown eyes, heavily kohled and fringed with sooty eyelashes, blinking back at him. A scarlet mouth formed a surprised-looking O.

      A woman.

      ‘I’m … I’m fine.’ She nodded, looking dazed.

      Gareth wasn’t entirely sure. She appeared uninjured but she looked like she might be in shock. ‘Can you move? How’s your neck?’ he asked.

      She nodded again, undoing her seat belt. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine.’ She swung her legs out of the car.

      ‘Don’t move,’ he ordered. ‘Stay there.’ The last thing he needed was a casualty wandering around the scene. ‘I’m Gareth, what’s your name?’

      ‘Billie.’

      Gareth acknowledged the unusual name on a superficial level only. ‘I’m going to check out the taxi driver. You stay here, okay, Billie?’

      She blinked up at him and nodded. ‘Okay.’

      Satisfied he’d secured her co-operation, Gareth, already dialling triple zero, headed for the smashed-up taxi.

      It took a minute for Billie to come out of the fog of the moment and get her bearings. She’d told Gareth—at least that was what she thought he’d said his name was—she was okay. Everything had happened so fast. But a quick mental check of her body confirmed it.

      She was shaking like a leaf but she wasn’t injured.

      And she was a doctor. She shouldn’t be sitting in her car like an invalid—she should be helping.

      What on earth had caused the taxi to veer right into her path? Was the driver drunk? Or was it something medical? A hypo? A seizure?

      She reached across to her glove box and pulled out a pair of gloves from the box she always kept there, her heart beating furiously, mentally preparing herself for potential gore. Being squeamish was not something that boded well for a doctor but it was something she’d never been able to conquer.

      She’d learned to control it—just.

      She exited her car, yanking the boot lever on the way out, rounding the vehicle and pulling out a briefcase that contained a well-stocked first-aid kit. Then she took a deep breath and in her ridiculous heels and three-quarter-length cocktail dress she made her way over to the crashed car and Gareth.

      Gareth looked up from his ministrations as Billie approached. ‘I thought I’d told you to stay put,’ he said, whipping off his fleecy hoody, not even feeling the cool air. His only priority was getting the driver, who wasn’t breathing and had no pulse, out of the car.

      ‘I’m fine. And I’m a doctor so I figured I could help.’

      Gareth was momentarily thrown by the information but he didn’t have time to question her credentials. She was already wearing a pair of hospital-issue gloves that he hadn’t given her, so she was at least prepared.

      And the driver’s lips were turning from dusky to blue.

      He needed oxygen and a defib. Neither of which they had.

      All the driver had was them, until the ambulance got there.

      ‘I’m an ER nurse,’ Gareth said, rolling his hoody into a tube shape then carefully wrapping it around the man’s neck, fashioning a crude soft collar to give him some C-spine protection when they pulled him out.

      ‘Ambulance is ten minutes away. He’s in cardiac arrest. Thankfully he’s not trapped. Help me get him out and we’ll start CPR. I’ll grab his top half,’ Gareth said.

      Aided by the light from the full moon blasting down on them, they had the driver lying on the dew-damp grass in less than thirty seconds. ‘You maintain the airway,’ Gareth said, falling back on protocols ingrained in him during twenty years in the field. ‘I’ll start compressions.’

      Billie nodded, swallowing hard as the metallic smell from the blood running down the driver’s face from a deep laceration on his forehead assaulted her senses. It had already congealed in places and her belly turned at the sight, threatening to eject the three-course meal she’d indulged in earlier.

      She turned away briskly, sucking air slowly into her lungs. In through her nose, out through her mouth, concentrating on the cold damp ground already seeping through the gauzy fabric of her dress to her knees rather than the blood. She was about to start her ER rotation—she had to get used to this.

      She opened the briefcase and pulled out her pocket mask.

      Gareth kicked up an eyebrow as she positioned herself, a knee either side of the guy’s head, and held the mask efficiently in place over the driver’s mouth and nose.

      ‘Very handy,’ he said, noting her perfect jaw grasp and hand placement. ‘Don’t suppose you have a defib in there by any chance?’

      Billie gave a half-laugh. ‘Sadly, no.’ Because they both knew that’s what this man needed.

      She leaned down to blow several times into the mouthpiece. Her artfully curled hair fell forward and she quickly pushed them behind her ears as the mask threatened to slip. The mix of sweat and blood on the driver’s face worked against her and Billie had to fight back a gag as the smell invaded her nostrils.

      If she just shut her eyes and concentrated on the flow of air, the rhythm of her delivery, mentally counted the breaths, she might just get through this without disgracing herself.

      ‘What do you reckon, heart attack?’ Gareth asked after he’d checked for a pulse two minutes in.

      Billie, concentrating deeply, opened her eyes at the sudden intrusion. Rivulets of dried blood stared back at her and she quickly shut them again. ‘Probably,’ she said between breaths. ‘Something caused him to veer off the road like that and he feels pretty clammy. Only he looks young, though. Fit too.’

      Gareth agreed, his arms already feeling the effort of prolonged compressions. The man didn’t look much older than himself. ‘’Bout forty, I reckon.’

      Billie nodded. ‘Too young to die.’

      He grunted and Billie wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. The taxi driver probably was going to die. The statistics for out-of-hospital cardiac arrests were grim. Even for young, fit people. This man needed so much more than they could give him here on the roadside.

      They fell silent again as they continued to give a complete stranger, who had nearly wiped both of them out tonight, a chance at life.

      ‘Come on, mate,’ Gareth said, as he checked the pulse for the third time and went back to compressions. ‘Cut us some slack here.’

      A minute later, the silence was pierced by the first low wails of a siren. ‘Yes,’ Gareth muttered. ‘Hold on, mate. The cavalry’s nearly here.’

      In another minute two ambulances—one with an intensive care paramedic—pulled up, followed closely by a police car. A minute