Abigail Gordon - Heatherdale's Shy Nurse

And now, with all those thoughts put to the back of his mind, he had a couple of days to himself. Once out in the open with his pack on his back calm always descended upon him.

* * *

Every step took him further along a winding, deserted road that led to higher ground. The magic of the moment was broken when the noise of a motorcycle engine came from somewhere behind him, and in seconds it passed him. It swerved around a bend in the road at a crazy speed then there was the sound of it crashing into rocks at the roadside, followed by startled shouts.

Hurrying to the accident scene, Callum couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The motorcyclist lay twisted and motionless beside his vehicle as a group of dumbfounded teenagers looked on, unsure of what to do.

A woman was on her knees beside the injured rider. He couldn’t see her face because she was bent over him, trying to loosen his leather jacket to feel for his heartbeat, while at the same time frantically urging the teens to keep calm as some of the girls began to react to the moment with screams and tears.

‘I’ll take over. I’m a doctor,’ he barked.

The kneeling woman had managed to open the injured rider’s leather jacket so they could get to his chest and to his relief Callum saw that it was rising and falling. The patient was breathing but without any signs of consciousness.

‘Have you got a phone with you?’ he asked abruptly, as he noted that both the man’s legs were twisted at a worrying angle.

She nodded and reached into her rucksack, but on producing it she shook her head. ‘We probably won’t get a signal up here.’

‘Give it to me,’ he said impatiently, ‘and if I can’t get through, I’ll try mine.’

As she obeyed, observing him unsmilingly, he dialled the emergency medical services for the area and surprisingly got a reply.

‘We are going to need a helicopter,’ he said. ‘An ambulance would not be able to get up here. I can give you our exact position as I know the area well. We need help for the injured driver of the motorcycle as soon as possible. Under these circumstances there is little we can do for him other than keep a firm check on his heartbeat and try to ascertain what other injuries he might have sustained in the crash.’

When he handed the phone back to the woman she got to her feet. ‘I need to speak to my group. They’re very upset by what they’ve witnessed.’

‘May I ask your name?’

‘My name is Leonie Mitchell and I’m a nurse,’ she said, and saw his surprise. ‘I help at the local community centre in Heatherdale in my spare time, along with a friend of mine who is usually in charge of the activities that we arrange for the children, but she isn’t well today and I said I would step in so that they wouldn’t be disappointed.’

‘You can carry on with your walk. There is nothing more you can do here,’ he told her. ‘It’s best if the children get clear of the scene.’

He’d resigned himself to a helicopter trip to a hospital in Manchester. He didn’t have to go with the young man, of course. There would be at least one doctor on board when it arrived, but he’d seen the lad’s twisted legs and if anybody could put them right, he could.

‘And once you get back to Heatherdale can you contact the garage on the riverside? If they can send someone to collect the bike, I will sort out the bill. They can invoice me.’

‘I will need an address to do that,’ Leonie said, anxiously taking up her kneeling position beside the unconscious rider once more.

Callum didn’t answer her; his concern for their patient was increasing.

‘He’s going into heart failure, we are going to have to resuscitate!’ For what seemed like a lifetime, they worked on him together until they could feel his heartbeat once more.

The sound of rotor blades whirring signalled that the helicopter had arrived, and the group grew silent as they watched it land beside them. As the doctor and nurse on board alighted, Callum filled them in.

‘We were able to resuscitate a few moments ago as there was no heartbeat, and there are fractures of both legs.’

‘Are you a doctor?’ the medic asked.

‘I’m Callum Warrender,’ he replied levelly, and the other man’s eyes widened.

‘Not the Warrender from Heatherdale Children’s Hospital?’ he exclaimed as he bent over the injured youth.

‘Let’s just say that I can spot a fracture a mile off and I’m coming along for the ride,’ he replied, and stepped aside as two paramedics appeared with a stretcher.

Oh, no! Not Callum Warrender, thought Leonie. Hospital gossip was that he was in America and wouldn’t be returning for another couple of weeks, but it would seem that it was wrong. And as she was sister-in-charge of the orthopaedic unit it seemed that they would soon be meeting again. She hoped that he wouldn’t recognise her as the same person he’d come across up on the moors, with her hair tucked out of sight beneath the woolly hat that was pulled low down on her head and wearing a shapeless waterproof jacket.

He’d asked who she was and she’d told him her name and that she was a nurse, but he wasn’t to know that she was a member of his staff. Callum Warrender had been in America when she’d joined the team.

Once the patient had been lifted on board, with the medics from the hospital in charge, and the pilot was ready for take-off, Callum reminded her, ‘Please remember to arrange for the motorcycle to be picked up by the garage beside the river, and tell them the guy from the apartments who fills up his tank there will call in to settle it as soon as he gets back from taking the casualty to A and E.’

With that the doors closed and he was gone. What an awful day it was turning out to be, thought Leonie. First Julie had phoned to say she’d picked up a flu bug and wasn’t fit to do the walk. Leonie had been happy to help out her friend, but none of them had been prepared for the shock of witnessing that motorbike accident. It hadn’t helped that the rider had been such a young guy. She couldn’t blame the kids for reacting as they had.

Callum Warrender’s arrival had seemed miraculous. He’d taken charge with brusque authority. That he was used to giving orders had been plain to see, but there was no way was she going to go to a strange garage to ask them to pick up the damaged motorcycle and tell them that someone completely unknown to her would pay the bill. She would settle the account herself.

Her group was getting restless so, putting her concerns for the victim and reservations about the man who had taken charge of the catastrophe to one side, Leonie gathered the group together and they set off on their hike across the moors once again, this time in a less euphoric mood than before.

* * *

When they arrived back at the community centre in the early evening Leonie left them to the delights of a disco that had been arranged for them by other helpers and went to find the garage by the river that the brusque doctor had mentioned. After giving them details of where the motorcycle could be found, and paying what appeared to be a standing charge for that kind of thing, she asked them to keep it on the premises until she could find a name and address for the injured rider.

Then returned to her recently purchased yurt, where she rang the hospital that the young man had been flown to.

On being put through to A and E, she explained to a nurse at the other end of the line that she had been present when the accident had taken place, and was informed that the patient had regained consciousness and was in Theatre, having fractures and other injuries dealt with by Mr Callum Warrender from the Heatherdale Children’s Hospital, who had travelled with him in the helicopter.

That the young man was being treated and by the best was all that really mattered. There were going to be parents somewhere who would be most thankful that someone like Callum Warrender had appeared out of the blue at the scene of the crash.