Marion Lennox: Saving Maddie's Baby

Josh tried to think of something to say—and couldn’t. He didn’t trust his own voice.

‘Married yourself, are you?’ the guy asked at last. They were heading downhill now, through dense tropical rainforest, presumably towards the coast. Josh was trying to consider the terrain, thinking of what he already knew: that the rainforest had reclaimed most of the cleared land round the minehead, and how hard it was going to be to get machinery in.

He wanted to worry about machinery. About technicalities. He wanted to worry about anything but Maddie.

Married yourself? The guy’s question still hung.

‘No,’ he said at last. ‘Not now.’

He didn’t deserve to be married. He hadn’t protected …

He’d failed.

Born to useless, drug-addicted parents, Josh had been the protector since he could first remember. The strong one.

He remembered a social worker, one of the early ones, walking into their house to find Holly curled on the bed and whimpering. There hadn’t been food in the house for days.

He’d been eight and Holly five. Josh had been big for his age, confused, helpless, as hungry as his little sister, but he hadn’t been whimpering. He’d learned early not to cry.

And the woman had turned on him, shocked into an automatic attack. ‘Why didn’t you come for help?’ she’d demanded. ‘You’re big enough now to protect your sister. Why didn’t you at least tell a neighbour?’

He’d never made that mistake again. He’d protected and protected and protected—but it hadn’t worked. He remembered the helplessness of being torn apart from Holly, placed in separate foster homes. The nightmares.

He’d learned to disguise even those. His job was to protect, not to share his pain. Not to add to that hurt.

And now? Once again Maddie was hurting and he was stuck on the far side of a mountain.

‘Partner?’ Maybe the guy was trying to distract himself. Surely he was. They were his friends underground.

And that was what Maddie was, he told himself. His friend. Nothing more.

‘I guess … A girlfriend,’ he told the guy and tried to think of Karen. They’d only been dating for three months but that was practically long-term for Josh. Karen was fun and flirty and out for a good time. She didn’t mind that his job took him away so much. She used him as he used her—as an appendage for weddings and the like, and someone to have fun with when it suited them both.

Maybe she wasn’t even a girlfriend, Josh thought. But that didn’t matter.

Whereas Maddie …

‘Here we are,’ the truck driver said, turning off the main road—if you could call it a main road—into a fenced-off area. The main gates were wide open. The sign on the fence said Mining Area—Keep Out, but there was no trace of security.

There were a few dilapidated buildings nestled among the trees. Only the cluster of parked vehicles, an ancient fire truck, a police motorbike and a jeep with the Wildfire Medical insignia, told him that anything was wrong.

‘Best place for the chopper’s round the back,’ the truck driver told him. ‘The guys were starting to clear it when we left.’ He pulled to a halt outside the first of the buildings and turned and clamped a hand on Josh’s shoulder. ‘Good luck, mate,’ he told him. ‘Thanks for coming. We sure need you.’

Josh climbed out of the truck and as he did his phone pinged. Maddie again.

We’re warm enough. Could use a bit of air-conditioning. Do you think you could arrange it? Also a couple of fluffy pillows, two mattresses and Malu reckons he could handle a beer. I could handle a gin and tonic, though I suppose I’m stuck with a lemonade. Actually lemonade sounds brilliant. I’m happy to make do. That’s my ‘needs’ list, Dr Campbell. Could you get onto it, stat?

A pillow would be nice. A pillow would be magnificent. Instead, Maddie lay on her back, with her hands behind her head, trying not to think how hard the rock was. And how much of a dead weight Malu’s legs were.

See if you can get him sloped so his legs are higher than his heart.

That was easier said than done. She could have put rocks under his thighs—yeah, that’d be comfy. Instead, she’d emptied her soft leather medical bag and given that to him as a pillow. She’d given him a couple of sips of the water—not as much as he wanted but she was starting to figure that if Keanu said two days then she might need to ration. Then, out of options, she’d lain down and lifted his legs onto hers.

It helped. She had her hand on his wrist and she could feel the difference.

He’d objected but not very much. In truth, he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He could hardly assess what she was doing.

She wouldn’t mind a bit of unconsciousness herself. She ached where she’d been hit by flying debris. She had a scratch on her head. Blood had trickled down and it was sticky. And grimy.

She’d kill for a wash.

Her back hurt.

Cramps?

That was her imagination, she told herself fiercely. It had to be.

Lie still and think of England.

Think of Josh? He’s out there.

Josh. Her husband.

He was no such thing, she told herself, but for now, in the dust and grit, she allowed herself to think it. She’d married him. She’d made vows and she’d meant them.

When she’d signed the divorce papers it’d broken her heart.

‘Josh …’ She couldn’t help herself. She said his name aloud, like it was some sort of talisman. She didn’t need him, or at least she hadn’t needed him until now. Josh hated to be needed.

But that wasn’t true, she conceded. He loved to be physically needed, like he was needed now, flying off to the world’s emergencies, doctor in crisis, doing what he could to help in the worst possible situations. But when she’d needed to share emotional pain?

That’s when he’d been … divorced.

‘Who’s Josh?’

Malu asked his question sleepily. He stirred, winced, swore then settled again. His legs were so heavy. She couldn’t do this for much longer, she decided, but she’d cope as long as she could.

‘Josh is my ex-husband,’ she said, more to distract herself than anything else. Doctors didn’t reveal their personal lives to their patients, yet down here the lines between professional and personal were blurred. Two days? Please not.

‘He’s a trauma specialist with Cairns Air Sea Rescue,’ she said, and the words seemed a comfort all by themselves. ‘He’s texted. He’s on his way.

‘Because of you?’ Malu’s words were slurred, but strong enough to reassure her.

‘It’s his job.’

‘So not because of you.’

‘We’ve been divorced for five years.’

‘Yeah?’ Malu must be using this as a means to distract himself from the pain, from the fear, from the difficulty breathing, she decided. It was so hard to talk through the dust.

She couldn’t tell him to hush and conserve his energy. Maybe she needed distraction, too.

‘So he’s not the dad?’ Malu asked.

‘No.’ She wasn’t going there and it seemed Malu sensed it.

‘I can’t imagine being divorced from my Pearl,’ Malu managed, moving on. ‘So … five years ago? What happened? Wrong guy in the first place? He play fast and loose?’

‘I guess … first option. He was always the wrong guy.’ She thought about it for a bit and then suddenly she found herself talking. Talking about Josh. Talking, as she’d never spoken of it to anyone.

‘Josh had it tough,’ she said, softly into the dark. ‘He had a younger sister, Holly. His parents were worse than useless and that the two of them survived at all was a miracle. They were abandoned as kids and went from foster home to foster home. Sometimes they were separated but Josh fought battle after battle to keep them together. To keep his sister safe. Their only constant was each other.’