was so stuffed up and the radio said we might be evacuated so I wrapped him up really well and started packing, but then I came back to his crib and he was…he was all rigid. Then when I picked him up he went sort of limp.’
Rachel had reached the emergency room now. She hadn’t stopped-Katy had stumbled along beside her as she’d taken Connor inside. Now she had him on the examination table and was attacking the crazy layette, peeling it away like an unwanted skin. A really thick skin. Bootees, jacket, nightgown…
The baby’s body was so hot.
‘When you found him, did you put him straight in the car?’ She was turning to the sink where Elly was already running water, but she was still questioning the frightened child by her side. The girl needed comfort but the need to establish a time frame was more urgent than comfort.
‘What?’
‘How long’s he been fitting?’ she asked directly. ‘When did you phone?’
‘I phoned as soon as I saw him. I picked him up and he was really odd and I was so scared I just called.’ The girl hiccuped on a sob.
‘The call came through eight minutes ago,’ Elly told her. ‘I rang you straight away.’
‘How long had you left him in the cot? Could he have been fitting for a while before you found him?’
‘No.’ The girl was trying desperately to focus, sensing it was important. ‘Just for a moment.’ The last of the baby’s clothes fell away to reveal a tiny limp body. ‘Just two minutes at most. I wrapped him and put him down and went to get his carry-cot and then he was like this.’
So he’d been fitting for probably no more than ten minutes. But ten minutes convulsing still meant a risk of brain damage. They had to get him cool.
‘What’s the problem?’
It was Hugo. He’d entered unseen behind them, taking in the scene before him as he strode into the room.
‘Convulsion,’ Rachel said shortly, without turning. She’d lifted the baby to the sink and shoved her elbow in to check the temperature, but Elly knew her stuff. The water had the chill taken off but that was all. It was cool to the touch. Rachel lowered the little one right in, up to his neck. The remains of his clothing and all.
‘Sponge water over his head,’ she told Elly. ‘Hugo, I need diazepam.’
He didn’t question her need. ‘Coming,’ he replied, and disappeared.
‘Come on.’ The baby lay unresponding in her hands.
It was a silent prayer, said over and over in her years working in Emergency. Sometimes it worked. Let this be one of those times.
And, as if on cue, she felt a tremor run through the little body. Another. The baby stiffened. Arched.
Was it more of the same? A further convulsion? The eyes were still unfocused.
‘I need the diazapam.’
‘It’s here.’ Hugo was back with her. Rachel lifted the baby’s slippery little body for a moment as Hugo carefully administered the drug.
Their heads bent together over the tiny child. Elly had stepped back to give Hugo room to manoeuvre. He discarded the packing, then started scooping water over the little head.
Come on. Come on.
They were willing this thing together.
And it worked. Connor’s body gave a long, long shudder-and his little eyes opened. Connor stared up at the strangers above, his little mouth dropped open, his chin wobbled-and he gave a feeble, feeble wail.
It was the sweetest sound. Rachel let her breath out-how long had she been holding it? Almost since she’d seen the baby. She looked up at Hugo and saw her joy reflected in his eyes.
‘He’s back.’
‘We have success,’ Hugo said softly. ‘Well done, you.’
‘Lucky me,’ Rachel whispered. Hugo was continuing to scoop water over the tiny, fuzzy head but the wail was building strength as young Connor realised the indignity of his position. To have this outcome was a gift. A blessing. She looked over her shoulder at the young mother. Katy was quietly sobbing, mascara running in two ugly lines down her cheeks. ‘Will you hold him in the water, Katy?’ she said softly. ‘He sounds like he wants his mother.’
‘I can’t…’ The girl choked on a sob. ‘He shouldn’t be sick. I wanted an antibiotic but Dr McInnes wouldn’t give it to me. He wouldn’t…’ She sank down on a chair and put her head in her hands and Rachel signalled to Elly to take her place with the baby. With a questioning look at Hugo-and an answering nod-she stooped and took the girl’s hands in hers, pulling them away from her tear-drenched eyes and forcing her to look at her.
‘Katy, antibiotics wouldn’t have helped. Connor’s cold will get better all by itself. It’s a combination of fever and this heat that has caused the fitting.’
‘The baby book said keep him warm when he has a cold,’ Katy said defiantly. ‘It said it. I read…’ She sniffed and tried a glare that didn’t come off. ‘I read everything.’
‘You don’t have someone who can give you advice?’ Rachel frowned. ‘Is there a baby clinic in town?’ In the city there were clinics specifically set up for very young mothers who didn’t have the support that an older woman might be capable of finding for herself.
‘No.’
‘There’s not the staff available for a baby clinic,’ Hugo said grimly from behind her. Connor’s cries were escalating and he needed to raise his voice to be heard. ‘I do my best but we need another doctor.’ He hesitated. Then added, ‘What about you? How do you feel about staying in town and helping set a baby clinic up? Plus the rest.’
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Rachel said before she could help herself, and suddenly she was looking at Hugo and he was looking back at her.
With unspoken thoughts…
But this wasn’t the time-or the place.
‘We need to move on,’ Hugo said, and there was real reluctance in his voice. ‘I’m sorry but we need to move fast. The fire’s broken through the firebreak.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘That we evacuate,’ Hugo told her. ‘Now.’
‘My baby…’ Katy sobbed, and Hugo looked down at the thrashing, screaming infant and grinned.
‘You know, Katy, I reckon your baby might be the least of our problems. We’ll dress him in a nappy and nothing else. There’s shade down at the beach. If he gets hot then you take him into the shallows. In fact, sitting in the shallows seems a fine idea for everyone. It’s your job to keep Connor cool, Katy, while we look after everyone else.’
Later Rachel could only remember the next few hours as chaos. Ordered chaos, but chaos for all that. But the township had been gearing for this event for two days now and when they moved they moved fast.
Firefighting became a lower priority. Once the firebreaks had been breached everyone moved into protection mode. All firefighters were pulled out of the hills-it was pointless and dangerous to stay there. Every able-bodied person was assigned a job. Volunteers went from house to house, ensuring people had left, checking that everything that could be done had been done, then the town was left to fend for itself.
Sam Nieve was in his element. He was the elderly man with the heart condition Rachel had sent home from the fire front. Now he was in charge of what he termed the home guard. He’d taken his role very seriously-he had lists of houses with every occupant, and by the time Rachel and Hugo reached the beach, Rachel accompanying Kim’s stretcher and Hugo supervising the other two seriously ill hospital inmates, he was set up at a makeshift desk, crossing off the name of every town inhabitant.
He’d even set up planking so that every person who arrived at the beach was forced to walk past his desk.
‘This way I know who’s still in their houses,’ he told Hugo, and there was no mistaking the pride in the man’s voice. ‘There’s only three I’m still worried about. Miss Baxter, who’s got a gammy leg and won’t leave because she loves her garden. Les Harding, who’s worried about his crazy feral cats. And Sue-Ellen Lesley. I’ve sent a couple of teams to bring in Miss Baxter and Les and as many of his cats as they can catch. There’s only Sue-Ellen left to worry about.’
