The Love Islands Collection. Jane Porter

      And she knew Nathan better than he knew himself. At the time of his parents’ death he’d tried so hard to be composed, to keep on top of things. This would have been the final push. Nathan would have stood by her—of that she had absolutely no doubt. No matter how hard she tried to push him away, he would have been by her side every step of the way.

      In a way, she hadn’t felt strong enough to be brave for herself and for Nathan too. She had to be selfish. She had to put herself first.

      So that was what she’d done. She’d bought her ticket and gone to the ward where Nathan was working to let him know she was leaving.

      It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d been flippant, matter-of-fact. A job opportunity had arisen in Australia that was too good to give up. She didn’t want to cause a scene so she hadn’t warned him.

      He’d be fine. Charlie would be fine. They’d been together too long. They both needed some space apart. She’d wished him and Charlie well for the future.

      Her legs had been shaking as she’d made that final walk down the corridor, knowing that every single word that had come from her mouth had been a lie.

      Horrible heartless lies that had hurt the person she loved.

      No wonder Nathan couldn’t bear to be around her.

      No wonder at all.

      Nathan was watching the celebrities crossing the swinging bridge made of rope and planks of wood suspended sixty feet above the jungle canopy. Any minute now …

      Right on cue, one of them vomited over the bridge, clinging on for all she was worth. He couldn’t stifle the laugh. He shouldn’t really find it funny. But it was ridiculous. None of them had expressed a fear of heights.

      It took nearly an hour for all nine celebrities to cross the bridge. It reminded him of the hysteria he’d witnessed as a student doctor at a school immunisation session when one teenage girl after another had a panic attack in the waiting room. The celebrities’ legs seemed to have turned to jelly and even some of the guys made a meal of it.

      Darius wasn’t one of them. Neither was the sportsman. Both walked over the bridge as if they were crossing the street. Darius was beginning to pique Nathan’s curiosity. What had Rachel seen in the guy? And why was he so stoic? He didn’t seem fazed by the jungle—or the potential challenges. It was as if he had so much more to worry about.

      There was a yell behind him and he spun around. A few other shouts followed and his legs moved automatically, crashing a path through the jungle towards the noise.

      It only took him a few seconds to reach a scene of chaos. Some of the crew had obviously been transporting equipment and a whole pile of barrels that had previously been in a tower were spilled all over the ground.

      ‘What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?’

      ‘It’s Jack,’ yelled one of the burlier men as he grabbed hold of one of the barrels and tried to move it aside. ‘He’s caught underneath.’

      Nathan didn’t hesitate. First priority—get to the patient. There was no way to see or assess how Jack was right now, so he used his muscle power to grab an end of one of the barrels to try and throw them out of the way. The weight of each of the barrels was extreme. ‘What on earth is in these?’ he grunted.

      ‘Sand.’

      ‘What? Why on earth do we have barrels filled with sand?’

      The muscles in his arms were starting to burn as he kept pace with the others grabbing barrels and moving them away from the site.

      ‘For one of the challenges,’ shouted the crew guy.

      There was a flash of pink near to him, then a figure shot past him and wriggled in between some of the barrels. ‘Stop!’ came a yell.

      He moved forward, crouching down. ‘Rachel, what on earth are you doing?’

      He could only see the soles of her boots as she continued to wiggle forward, her slim body and hips pushing sideways through the barrels. None of the rest of the crew could have fitted.

      Her voice seemed to echo quietly back to him, reverberating off the curved sides of the barrels. ‘I’ve got him. He’s unconscious. Give me a second.’

      The site director appeared next to Nathan, talking incessantly in his ear. Health and Safety … not safe … insurance … liability …

      ‘Shut up,’ said Nathan sharply, tuning the man out.

      ‘Rachel. How are you doing in there?’

      There was a creak above him and several of the crew ran forward with their hands above their heads. ‘Watch out, Doc. Some of these are going to go.’

      Of course. They’d been so close they couldn’t see the bigger picture. They’d been so quick to think about getting to Jack they hadn’t considered the swaying semi-collapsed tower.

      Rachel gave a little squeak. ‘He’s breathing. But he’s unconscious,’ she shouted. ‘Definite sign of a head injury with a head lac, and a possible fractured ulna and radius.’

      ‘Any other injuries?’

      ‘Give me a sec. I can’t see his legs but I can feel his pelvis and abdomen.’ Nathan held his breath. His brain was trying to calculate how long it would take to medevac someone out of here. A few seconds later she shouted again. ‘His pelvis seems intact and his abdomen is soft. But there’s a few barrels right above us that look ready to come crashing down. Do you have anything we can use to keep us safe?’

      Nathan started shouting to the crew. ‘We need something to put over Jack and the doc. What do we have?’

      A few members of the crew pointed to some piles of wood. But there was no chance of squeezing those in amongst the barrels. Nathan’s brain was working frantically. Yesterday, he’d read a list of the challenges that the celebrities would do over the next few weeks. It sparked something in his brain. ‘Wait a minute. What about the inflatables for the water challenge later—anyone know where those are?’

      He hadn’t even seen them but, from what he could remember about the challenge, they might help.

      Ron’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes! They’ll be perfect!’ He turned on his heel and ran towards one of the equipment storage cabins.

      Nathan’s black medical bag thumped down beside him. He didn’t even know who’d brought it. He just stuck his hand inside and pulled out a stethoscope. He ran forward and threw the stethoscope inside. ‘Rach, can you sound his chest?’

      There was a muffled response. Ron and the others were still running around. The feeling of camaraderie struck him. When something happened, all hands were on deck. He didn’t know most of these people. He could count on one hand how many names he knew. But it didn’t matter; everyone was working towards one purpose and that he could understand. It had been the way of his life for five years in Doctors Without Borders.

      Ron stopped next to him, clearly out of breath—he’d need to remember to check him over later. ‘We’ve got them—almost like giant sausages. They’re thin enough when they’re deflated to wiggle them through next to the doc.’

      ‘How do you inflate them?’ His brain was starting to see where this could go.

      ‘With a pressure machine.’

      ‘How quickly can they go up?’

      ‘Within ten seconds.’

      He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘When that inflates will it push all those barrels outwards?’ How on earth could he keep Rachel and Jack safe?

      He turned to the technician next to him. His logical brain was trying to calculate how to do this. ‘Put one on either side. They stay in the middle. That way, all the barrels will fall outwards.’ At least he hoped and prayed they would. He glanced at the anxious face next to him. ‘What