Fiona McArthur - Their Special-Care Baby

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This book is dedicated in memory to my mother,

Catherine, whose beautiful smile and

“Hello Darling” will always warm my heart.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

STEWART KRAMER leant on the over-track bridge and waited for the Brisbane train to come into view. He contemplated the fierce Australian sun as it shimmered off the entwined silver rails on the track and tried not to think about other things he should have been doing instead of cleaning up after his late brother.

As a child he’d imagined he might work on the railway, anywhere away from Sean. Stewart was distracted by a commuter train that pulled in and then headed back into Sydney.

A swarm of passengers flowed around him as they crossed the coathanger-shaped pedestrian bridge then surged down the stairs to road level.

Desiree’s train had been delayed, luckily, because a tiny set of twins had put his own arrival back an hour while his team had worked to stabilise them in the unit. He had a gut feeling about the larger twin that he’d follow up if his registrar hadn’t already, but his thoughts were interrupted by the loudspeaker warning of the Brisbane train’s impending arrival.

Desiree’s latest mobile text message had suggested his newly acquired sister-in-law and baby niece were travelling in the second carriage from the driver’s and he began to think of moving down to help her with the pram. No doubt she would be as helpless and fashion-brained as all his brother’s women had seemed in the past.

No matter. He would look after them, and the new baby on the way. Even in death his older brother had left wreckage for Stewart to clean up.

He still couldn’t believe that Sean was dead, despite the fact that his brother had danced with danger for so many years on the darker side of life and had then suddenly left a widow and children. Sean could have been so much more.

He wondered briefly if Desiree was her real name or the stage name she’d chosen before she’d married Sean.

The blue inter-city express suddenly appeared around the bend and Stewart straightened. The train seemed to be making up for its tardiness with an extra burst of speed as it passed the departing commuter train. The flyer resembled a blue ribbon in the wind as it streamed towards him and Stewart pushed himself off the rail and forced some enthusiasm for his new family.

Stewart glanced again at Desiree’s train, and at the edge of his vision a silver freighter continued to ease smoothly onto the track in front of the oncoming express as if it had all the time in the world.

Seconds slowed and the initial scream of brakes from the express did nothing but pierce the air with fruitless warning before the trains collided.

The explosion of two great forces meeting with a scream of metal on metal shrieked into the morning routine like an invasion from hell. Smoke and debris shot skywards confirming the sight his brain had dismissed as impossible.

Instinctively Stewart closed his eyes as the horrific scene grew to a pile-up of carriages he’d only imagined seeing as a child on his father’s miniature line. This was no young boy’s accidental manoeuvrings—this was adult folly of criminal proportions.

Stewart’s mind recoiled at the thought of the damage such twisted metal would make on frail human flesh as he turned and scanned the bridge to gauge the fastest way to the tracks.

Adrenalin surged as his heart pounded in his chest and he took the stairs three at a time down to the platform. Somewhere in the wreckage his sister-in-law and niece would be lying, along with many others.

Stunned commuters stared without comprehension up the track at the jumble of carriages. A black pall of smoke hung in the morning sunlight and slowly, piercingly, a lone woman facing the catastrophe began to scream as Stewart vaulted down onto the track and began to sprint up towards the wreckage.

More bystanders must have joined him from the platform because he could hear the echo of running feet on the track behind him or maybe it was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then everything seemed to slow as he came abreast of the devastation.

The engine on the freighter lay buried beneath the smashed driver’s cab of the express and there was no way of sighting either driver. Stewart barely paused as he hurdled over debris and made his way to the first of the passenger carriages.

Common decency and the doctor in him forced him to stop and render what assistance he could, despite his brain knowing what he would find.

He peered through a rent in the side of the carriage and the scene inside would haunt him for ever.

Instinctively he narrowed his line of sight from the grand scale of destruction to find the nearest body, but without equipment the twisted metal didn’t allow his entry and he scanned the faces he could see for any sign of life. Nobody moved, not even a twitch, so he eased back to try the next carriage as a young man appeared at his shoulder.

‘This carriage will have to be left for the rescue workers. We can’t get in and we’ll be more useful to those we can reach.’ The young man swallowed and nodded.

A group of half a dozen commuters had arrived and Stewart directed them to the end carriages. ‘Just help the walking wounded. Don’t move anyone until the emergency workers arrive. Watch for power lines.’

Stewart closed his eyes and sent a prayer of thanks as a wail of sirens filled the air, assuring him that he wouldn’t be in charge of this horror.

He saw tragic events and terrified parents in his paediatric consultancy work but to face this shocking reality made him wish for a nice simple premature twin birth and his team.

He dreaded what he would find in carriage two as he skirted hot metal and clambered towards the opening between the carriages. What he inhaled was smoke, and a fire was the last thing they needed. Given the blasting heat of the day, he should have expected it.

A paramedic, the first of a strong contingent alighting beside the tracks, sprang from his vehicle and touched Stewart’s arm. ‘I’ll take over, sir.’

Stewart glanced at the man in mid-stride but didn’t falter. ‘I’m a doctor. I’ve a relative on this train. I’d like to stay.’

When she woke, she could hear the weak cry of a baby as the acrid tendrils of smoke began to fill the carriage.

The infant cried again. A baby? A sudden jolt from her rounded tummy and then a pain squeezed her abdomen rock hard beneath her searching fingers, but she couldn’t connect the thoughts. There was something about a baby.

The pain eased and instinctively she looked for the crying infant, but when she tried to move she realised her arm was caught.

She lay on her side under several pieces of luggage and a broken seat with her cheek against the cold glass of the window.