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‘And you hate harbour life. That’s why you choose to live in London.’
Sam gave an implacable smile. ‘But I’m here now. And those are the details that you need as a family doctor. Those are the details that we’re going to bring out in the programme. The way that we care for generations of the same family.’
‘You mean that the way your father and I care for generations of the same family.’
Before he could answer the doors to the surgery crashed open and a man shouldered his way in, a child cradled in his arms, a frantic expression on his face. ‘Quickly! I need a doctor. Someone help me—she’s really struggling to breathe.’
‘What happened, John?’ Anna was beside him instantly, a brief examination of the child revealing that her lips were swollen and that she was wheezing badly.
‘She’s got a rash,’ Sam murmured from next to her, his large hands lifting the child’s T-shirt and exposing her abdomen. ‘This is anaphylactic shock. I wonder what’s caused it.’
‘Let’s get her into my consulting room.’
‘I’ll get the drugs.’
Acting as smoothly and efficiently as if they’d worked together all their lives, they swung into action.
‘Do you know what happened, John? Any clues at all?’ Anna questioned the father as she took the child and laid her on the examination couch, trying to obtain a history that might help them work out what had happened.
John was frantic, both hands locked in his hair as he watched helplessly. ‘I don’t know. God, I just don’t know. We were on the beach, having a picnic—’
‘What were you eating?’ Anna took the oxygen mask from Sam and covered the child’s mouth and nose while Sam adjusted the flow. ‘Any food she hasn’t eaten before? Nuts maybe? Strawberries?’
‘No nuts. Hell— I don’t know what she ate. All the usual stuff, I suppose.’ He ran a hand over the back of his neck, his brow beaded with sweat. Then he glanced towards the door. ‘Michelle will know. She’s following with the baby. I came with Lucy because I can run faster.’ He took several shallow breaths, fighting for control. Struggling to be strong in the face of a crisis. When he wasn’t doing his job as a carpenter, John was the helmsman of the lifeboat and well used to dealing with emergencies. Just not in his own family. ‘Crisps. She ate crisps. I remember that because Michelle was nagging her to eat a sandwich.’
Sam attached a pulse oximeter to Lucy’s finger and checked the reading. ‘Her oxygen saturation is 90 per cent.’
‘Is that OK?’ John glanced between them, anxious for information. ‘Tell me that’s OK. Tell me she’s going to be OK.’
‘We’d like it to be a little higher, but the oxygen will help,’ Anna said calmly, holding the mask and stroking the little girl’s head to try and calm her. ‘Better give her some adrenaline and hydrocortisone, McKenna.’
‘Ahead of you, Riggs.’ Within seconds Sam had given the little girl an injection of adrenaline into her muscle. ‘I’m going to put a line in. I have a feeling we might need it.’
Without question Anna handed him the necessary equipment and then examined the little girl’s arm. ‘This looks like a good vein.’ She slipped on the tourniquet, tightened it and then shifted her position to allow Sam access.
In one swift movement he slipped the needle into the vein. No fumbling. No hesitation.
Anna hid her surprise. For someone who was out of practice, he hadn’t seemed remotely hesitant. And he hadn’t missed. She had to admit she was impressed. And relieved.
‘Here…’ She reached for some strapping to secure it. ‘Don’t want to lose that.’
‘Right.’ With a steady hand Sam gave the hydrocortisone and Anna checked the pulse oximeter again.
‘Her sats are up to 94 per cent. Her breathing seems a little easier.’
‘That’s good. Let’s see if this helps.’ He gave the hydrocortisone and at that moment the door opened and Lucy’s mother hurried in, white-faced and out of breath.
‘Glenda’s taken the baby for me. Is Lucy OK? What’s wrong with her? She was fine one minute and then she just collapsed.’ The questions tumbled out of her and, satisfied that Sam had Lucy under control, Anna hurried over to the distraught Michelle.
‘She seems to have had an allergic reaction to something, but the drugs are helping. We need to know what caused it, Michelle. What were you doing when it happened?’
Michelle Craddock looked at her helplessly, her face shiny from the heat, her hair damp from running. ‘Eating a picnic. Nothing exciting or dangerous. I just don’t understand what could possibly have happened.’
‘Could she have picked something up from the beach?’ Sam dropped the empty syringe onto the trolley and glanced at Anna with a question in his eyes. ‘Drugs?’
Her gaze held his. They both knew that during the summer months teenagers congregated on the beach in the evenings. The local police did their best to keep things under control but the odd broken bottle and syringe had been cleaned up the following morning by vigilant locals. Had the little girl picked something up from the sand?
Michelle was shaking her head. ‘She didn’t wander from the picnic rug. I would have noticed if she’d picked something up.’
