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The room was in darkness, apart from the light from torches and a lantern. A youth of about twenty lay on the double bed, groaning in pain. One of the policemen was with him and the other was guarding a younger boy, who sat on the floor in the corner of the room.
‘He’s got no weapons on him and I can’t see any signs of blood either, apart from his fingers.’ The policeman had obviously made some kind of preliminary check.
‘Thanks.’ Mimi climbed on to the bed. Looting was considered the lowest of the low, but this was a patient and he wasn’t much more than a boy at that.
‘Hi, I’m Mimi. I’m with the ambulance service.’
No answer. The lad’s eyes were resolutely closed, although he seemed to be conscious.
‘What’s his name?’ She turned quickly towards the boy in the corner, who had his face in his hands and seemed to be crying.
‘His name.’ The policeman standing over him bent towards the boy. ‘Come on. You need to help your mate.’
‘Terence Arthur Wolfe.’ It seemed that now the boy had decided to talk, he was going to tell all. ‘We call him Wolfie.’
‘Okay. Wolfie...?’
‘Not now, baby. I’m not in the mood.’
She heard the firefighter who had come with her chuckle quietly and shot him a grin. ‘Just as well. Neither am I.’
She tapped the side of Wolfie’s face with her finger and he opened his eyes. ‘Ambulance service, Wolfie. I’m here to help you.’
She started the basic checks, calling over her shoulder to the boy in the corner. ‘What happened to him?’
‘It wasn’t my idea...’ The boy started to sob.
‘What happened, lad?’ Another prompt from the policeman.
‘He... He went downstairs, said there was stuff down there. I didn’t go. All the furniture was floating about. He got hit by a wardrobe and it squashed him against the wall...’
‘Did his head go under the water?’ Mimi felt Wolfie’s hair and it was dry.
‘No.’
‘Was he unconscious at any time?’
‘I pulled him out and got him up here.’
‘Has he been unconscious?’ Mimi tried the question again.
‘I don’t think so.’
It looked as if Wolfie might have a cracked rib and two of his fingers were broken. But his breathing was okay, and if there was any bleeding it was internal. She turned to the firefighter. ‘We’ll need a carry cot. You have one on board?’
‘Yep, we’ve got one.’
‘Great.’ She felt in her pocket for her phone and dialled Rafe’s number. ‘The boat can go back and fetch it?’
* * *
Rafe was holding his phone in his hand, and answered on the first ring. As he did so, he saw the boat, pushing away from the house and moving back towards them.
‘Mimi?’
‘I’ve got a young male, crushed by a floating wardrobe, of all things. We’ll need to evacuate him by stretcher. I’ll call an ambulance.’
‘Okay, got it. I’m coming across with the boat. Anything you need?’
