Emergency at Bayside Read Free Page A

shining brightly when she did, warm and delicious. The same sun that warmed her when she sunbathed, the same birds chirping, the same lazy, hazy feeling as she stretched out on a towel and drifted off. Closing her eyes, feeling its warmth, she could almost hear the ocean, almost imagine she was lying on the soft sand, listening to the children pattingsandcastles into shape. The hum of the firefighters’ drill was almost a perfect Jet Ski in the distance…
    ‘Meg!’ It was him again, breaking into her dream, utterly refusing to leave her be. ‘What do you do at the beach?’
    ‘I sleep.’
    She heard him half-laugh, half-curse. ‘She’s practically hypnotised herself here, Ken. Tell them to step on it.’
    Whether it was Flynn’s insistence or whether the tree was finally secured Meg didn’t know, but suddenly the ‘jaws of life’ were peeling the roof off her car as easily as the foil top on a yoghurt carton. The noise was deafening, the movement terrifying, but through it all Flynn was beside her, holding her hand, soothing her with his presence, until finally a firefighter appeared above them, giving the thumbs-up sign. For the last hour all Meg had wished for was to be free from the mangled wreckage, but now the moment was here suddenly she was scared again.
    Bracing herself for movement, she gripped Flynn’s hand tighter. ‘It’s going to hurt.’
    ‘You’re going to be fine. Once you’re in the ambulance, and I’ve checked you over, I’ll give you something for pain.’
    ‘Promise?’
    He gave her a smile. ‘Trust me.’ He was easing his fingers out of her grip. ‘I’m just going around to your other side so I can support your head as they bring you out. I’ll speak to you again in the ambulance.’
    And with that she had to be content.
    He held her head as they skilfully lifted her, takingcharge from the top as they started the slow, painstaking ascent back to the road, relaying his orders in clear, direct tones, carefully ensuring that her neck never moved out of alignment, assuming at all times the worst-case scenario: until an X-ray showed no fracture of her neck it was safer to assume that she had one. And though Meg had never been more scared in her life, never been in more pain, amazingly she felt safe, knew that she was in good hands— literally.
    Strong hands gently lowered her onto the cool crisp sheets on the stretcher, and she felt the bumps as they wheeled her to the awaiting ambulance. Fragments of the conversations between the police and the firefighters reached her as they jolted along.
    ‘…no skid marks…’
    ‘…the witness said she just veered straight off.’
    ‘…just finished a night shift…’
    It was the type of conversation Meg heard nearly every working day, the tiny pieces of a jigsaw that would painstakingly be put together, adding up the chain of events that had led to an accident. Only this time it was about her.
    As they lifted her into the ambulance and secured the stretcher she ran a tongue over her dry bloodstained lips.
    ‘Where’s Flynn?’
    Ken patted her arm. ‘He’ll be here in a moment.’
    ‘He said he’d be here.’ Suddenly it seemed imperative that she see Flynn and tell him what had happened.
    ‘Just give him a moment, Meg, he’s had a roughmorning.’ Ken’s words made no sense. She was the patient, after all, and the way Ken was talking it sounded as if Flynn was the one who was upset.
    ‘What’s she moaning about now?’ It was Flynn again, a touch paler and a bit grey-looking, but with the same easy smile and a slight wink as he teased her.
    ‘Are you all right?’
    Meg opened her mouth to answer but realised that Ken’s question had actually been directed to Flynn.
    Flynn muttered something about a ‘dodgy pie’ and, after accepting a mint from Ken, again shone the beastly pupil torch back into her eyes.
    ‘She’s in a lot of pain, Flynn.’ Ken was speaking as he checked her blood pressure. ‘All her obs are stable. Do