holding Maud’s wrist and the defibrillator put aside.
‘We have a pulse,’ he said softly. ‘Give it a minute, Fern…’
Fern stared wildly down. Her own breath had stopped. She was scared to take the next breath.
‘Please…’
She said the word aloud. It echoed round and round the crowded room and suddenly there was an answer to her plea.
Maud took a rasping, ragged breath that was painful to hear but it was the sweetest sound that Fern had ever heard. She stared down as Maud’s chest heaved, hardly daring to hope.
Maudie breathed again, and again, and her breathing settled into a harsh but steady rhythm.
‘We have life,’ Quinn said with quiet satisfaction.
Without pause, he turned to the oxygen cylinder he’d dragged up the stairs with him and started to join a mask to the tubing. The next priority was to get as much oxygen into Maud’s starved bloodstream as he could. ‘How long without oxygen, Dr Rycroft?’
‘How long…?’
Fern bit her lip. There were tears streaming down her face and she wiped them away with a lace-trimmed sleeve. How long? Quinn was asking how long Maud hadn’t been breathing.
She didn’t know. Her uncle knew…
Strange how hard it was to get her voice to work. She had to…
‘Uncle…Uncle, how long was Maud unconscious before I arrived?’
Albert was still staring down with horror at his unconscious wife. He didn’t hear her.
Fern stood with difficulty and somewhere beneath her a piece of white satin caught and ripped. Her knees seemed to have turned to water. She crossed to where her uncle stood and gave him a swift hug, then stood back with him at arm’s length. She gripped his hands hard. ‘Uncle, we have Maud breathing again. It’ll take a while, though, before she regains consciousness…’
Depending on how long Maud’s brain had been starved of oxygen…
Fern didn’t say that. There was no use scaring her uncle even more than he already was.
‘How long was she unconscious before I came?’ she asked her uncle again, and Albert hauled himself together with a mammoth effort.
‘Only…only seconds,’ he stammered. ‘She was sick and then she slumped to the floor and I thought, what am I going to do, she’s dying, and then I heard your car…’
‘Then she might have only been ten minutes not breathing,’ Fern whispered across to Quinn. ‘Maybe even less. And I was breathing for her most of that time. You were so fast…’
‘Frank Reid’s place is just past here,’ Quinn told her. ‘I was almost outside the front door when your uncle phoned.’
‘Thank God for that.’
The oxygen mask was firmly in place now and Maudie was changing colour. The awful blue-white was fading to pink.
Then Maud’s body moved almost imperceptibly once and then again. Finally, the woman’s hand moved slowly up to touch the mask and her eyes tried to open.
‘It’s OK, Auntie.’ Fern sank quickly to her knees again, ignoring the ripping sound of satin, and gathered her aunt’s hands to her. ‘You’ve had a heart turn but you’re OK. Dr Gallagher has an oxygen mask on your face. Don’t try to fight it. Just rest and let us do the work.’
Maud Rycroft gave a feeble moan. She fought to free her hand from Fern’s grasp and her eyes rolled. Her lips moved as she tried to speak and Quinn lifted the mask a fraction.
‘What is it, Mrs Rycroft?’ he said gently.
‘Fern’s wedding…’ A tear of weakness and despair rolled down Maud’s wrinkled cheek. ‘My Fern…’
Quinn replaced the mask and touched Maud’s cheek. He was kneeling beside Fern but he didn’t look at her. His dark eyes held those of his frightened patient and they exuded reassurance.
‘Fern’s wedding’s a little delayed, Mrs Rycroft,’ he told Maud gently. ‘We seem to have a widespread case of tummy wobbles on the island. It seems, though…’ Laughter surfaced fleetingly as Quinn cast a quick glance at Fern. ‘It seems your niece has a while before she passes her “use-by” date. Most brides ache to wear their wedding dress more than once. Your Fern now gets the chance to put her finery on, walk down the aisle and be the centre of attention all over again-without the bother and expense of a divorce in between.’
Maud lay still. She took three rasping breaths, gathering strength. Then, slowly, the sides of her mouth twitched into the semblance of a smile.
‘Our Fern always was one for doing things different,’ she whispered and closed her eyes. ‘Keep her safe for me, Dr Gallagher.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Quinn promised, and the laughter faded.
By the time Fern finally rid herself of her crazy bridal apparel, Uncle Al and Quinn had settled Fern’s aunt into the back of Quinn’s station wagon. Racing downstairs, sensibly clad in jeans and blouse, Fern discovered her aunt secure in what seemed to be an amazingly equipped vehicle.
‘It’s as good as an ambulance,’ Fern said in astonishment, staring at the mass of equipment inside the vehicle. The island had never had medical gear like this. Maud lay comfortable and safe on a fixed stretcher, oxygen supplied from a tank fixed to the side of the van. There was room for two stretchers but, with only one needed, the other folded away to leave room for Uncle Albert to sit by his wife’s side.
‘It’s better than most ambulances,’ Quinn corrected her. He was adjusting a saline drip over Maud. Now he met Fern’s bewildered gaze and smiled. ‘I’m not prepared to practise medicine by halves, Dr Rycroft, and when I promised to stay long-term the islanders decided to set me up properly.’
‘But…’ Fern’s confusion was growing. ‘Why did you come here?’
‘Why wouldn’t I come?’ He was intent once again on adjusting his drip.
‘No one ever has before.’
‘Because it’s not a lucrative medical practice?’ Quinn threw her a quizzical look. ‘Is that why you won’t stay, Dr Rycroft?’
‘No. I…’ She took a deep breath. ‘Why I won’t stay has nothing to do with you, Dr Gallagher.’
‘There is that,’ Quinn said drily. He smiled down at Fern’s aunt, lying wan on the stretcher. ‘But I appeal to you, Mrs Rycroft. Your niece thinks her reasons for leaving the island are none of my business, yet she thinks it’s her business to know why I came. Is that fair?’
Maud’s eyes twinkled faintly and the sight made Fern feel better.
‘Fern was always contrary,’ Maud whispered. ‘Where…where are you taking me?’
‘To hospital.’
‘Hospital!’ Fern stared. ‘You don’t mean to tell me you’ve set up a hospital here?’
‘Of sorts.’ Quinn swung out of the ambulance and stood looking down at her. ‘Now, are you happy to leave your aunt in my charge?’
‘I…’ Fern looked dubiously at her aunt. Maud’s colour was improving while she watched but the first few hours after cardiac arrest were the most dangerous.
‘I won’t leave her,’ Quinn said softly. His hand came up and he touched Fern’s cheek with a gentleness that was at odds with his brusque and competent exterior. ‘I promise.’
Fern nodded. She didn’t meet his look. She couldn’t.
The feel of his finger on the skin of her cheek was doing strange things to her.
Like making her want to weep again.
For heaven’s sake…Get a hold on yourself, Fern Rycroft…
She brushed his fingers away with impatience.
‘What do you want me to do, then?’ she snapped and then wished she hadn’t. She was the medical equal of this man. Why was she looking to him for orders?
Quinn seemed used to issuing them, though. His mind had obviously worked through priorities as he’d helped Fern’s aunt and he knew what was needed.
‘I want you to take my bag and check on the two patients I was going to see and then come back to the clinic,’ he ordered. ‘If this vomiting is making people dehydrated then we’ll need both of us at a central point.
‘I’ll ring the local police sergeant and have him find Lizzy Hurst. He can find out what exactly she’s done. I want
