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‘A group of medical volunteers?’ Her attention switched immediately back to the nurse. ‘To Jukrem?’
‘I think they decided that a bunch of extra medics at Rejupe wasn’t the best use of resources. If we have that kind of skill on hand, and we aren’t safe in the Luerina area at the moment, we might as well send a mobile vaccination team out towards Jukrem, maybe help alleviate some of the sudden influx you guys have been getting by intercepting those refugees closer to the border. Especially the mothers and babies.’
It was a great idea, and one that offered Bridget the perfect lifeline. The ideal distraction from worrying about Hayden going to follow up a group of rebels.
Being part of that mobile medical team would certainly help to refocus her on the job she’d always loved—being a nurse in places like this. And she had no doubt that once she spoke to Mandy back at Jukrem, the woman would be only too happy to send her with the team. Not least because it might help to take the pressure off them in camp.
‘Sounds good. Think they’ll need an extra pair of hands?’
‘They usually do.’ The nurse laughed. ‘I should have been that quick off the mark.’
‘Well, maybe I’ll see you there.’
Jogging over to the comms unit to see if she could contact Jukrem and confirm her plan with Mandy, Bridget felt a little happier with herself.
Hayd would have a plan. She knew him well enough to know that. But now she had a plan, too. One that didn’t involve sitting around and worrying about him.
She only hoped it would work as well in practice as it did in theory.
* * *
‘This is Waeya. She’s three years old,’ the triage nurse told Bridget as she stepped around the makeshift bay in the mobile clinic her new team had set up near the refugee camp just over half a day’s drive from Jukrem.
The plan had been a sound one. As anticipated, the increase in new refugees coming over the border had meant a significant uptake in the number of visitors to Jukrem camp itself, and Mandy had jumped at the idea of a vaccination team being able to get to hundreds of them sooner. Another week, she’d told Bridget, and Jukrem simply wouldn’t be able to get through the backlog.
Even now, both Rejupe and Jukrem were recruiting and training both local nurses and healthcare providers in their scores.
In many ways, it was a compliment. Testament to how well their charity had integrated into the area and become a trusted source for the local people. All the teams in the region deserved to be proud of themselves. Bridget knew that she was.
And she wasn’t remotely thinking about Hayden, and whether he’d been safe out there. Days away from camp. Days away from her. Or the fact that he’d apparently arrived back at the army camp near Jukrem the day before, in time for a parachute drop that night. She wondered if he’d even been across to the charity’s camp, only to find out that she wasn’t there.
Then she hated herself for even thinking about it. For even caring.
Because Hayden wouldn’t care. It had been a one-off, that night. Logic told her that it didn’t mean anything more than that.
As soon as that call had come in, he’d forgotten all about her, focusing on his job instead. Exactly the way that he was supposed to do. Just as she was.
And still something ate away inside her. The fear that she couldn’t pigeonhole her emotions the way that he could. The fact that a part of her was ignoring every warning she was trying to heed, and instead it wanted more.
And Hayden had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t have more of himself to give.
‘Waeya’s mother brought her in whilst you were away,’ the nurse prompted, and Bridget snapped her head round instantly. ‘She has coughing, chest pain, and is severely emaciated. She weighs about ten pounds. We’ve diagnosed TB and begun treating with first line oral antibiotics and second line injections.’
‘Male, Waeya,’ Bridget whispered to the oblivious little girl on the makeshift floor cot, the huge mosquito net pinned all around her. ‘Mum’s being screened now, is she?’
‘She’s right next door,’ Lisa confirmed. ‘Come on, I’ll show you our last, new patient.’
‘Here?’ Bridget turned expectantly.
‘Next door.’ Shaking her head, Lisa led her out and across to another tent with a couple of white mosquito net domes inside, where a pulse oximeter was emitting an unwelcome beep, warning of a low oxygen level as it tried to help those infected little wet lungs.
‘Hamar is eighteen months old. He missed his measles vaccination when his family fled their village after an attack. I don’t know how many weeks or months it took them to make their way here, or when Hamar contracted measles.’
‘You’ve treated him with oxygen to help his lungs and antibiotics for secondary infections?’
‘Yes, but he continued to deteriorate so we tried a course of steroids and have finally seen an improvement. Right now, we need to ensure plenty of fluids and good nutrition, and salbutamol to ensure the lungs are open. But it looks as though we may have turned a corner with him, so right now we’re holding onto that.’
* * *
