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For a moment Ally stared into those dark eyes, seduced by the blatant interest she saw there, and then she shook herself. She wasn’t his. She wasn’t interested. She had Charlie now and they got on fine together. Life might not be exciting, but it was stable and predictable and that was what she wanted.
‘Well, remind me to leave the bedroom window open so that you don’t get stuck delivering the box of Milk Tray,’ she snapped, determined not to show him how much he flustered her. His slow smile told her that her efforts were in vain. He knew all right.
‘Humour me. Sending a woman down a mountain alone in this weather offends my notions of chivalry.’ His eyes gleamed with appreciation. ‘Even if she has got guts.’
‘Well, chivalry isn’t going to save those boys,’ Ally pointed out briskly, pulling herself together rapidly and clicking her fingers at Hero, her dog, who bounded up eagerly. ‘I’ll wait while you abseil down.’
He gave a short nod and Ally tried not to look impressed as he went over the edge like a pro. There was no doubt that he knew what he was doing. He probably would have had heart failure if he’d seen the way she used to fling herself over the edge as a child. For several long minutes she hovered anxiously and then heard his voice, faint and muffled from deep down in the ghyll.
‘I’ve got them. One of them has fractured his clavicle but he seems fine otherwise. The other is unconscious with a nasty head injury, fractured tibia and maybe a few broken ribs, judging from the way he’s lying. Go as fast as you can but be careful!’
‘Will do,’ Ally yelled, whistling to the dog as she paced down the path as quickly as she felt was safe. Would she bring the team back in time?
* * *
It took two hours for her to return with the mountain rescue team and another hour for them to stretcher the two boys out of the ravine.
Ally’s eyes widened as she recognised the first of the casualties, his arm secured in a broad sling.
‘Andy? What on earth have you been doing?’
Despite his pallor, the boy coloured and looked thoroughly embarrassed.
‘Look, we’re really, really sorry, Dr McGuire…’
Ally made a soothing noise. Now wasn’t the time to tell him off. ‘Why weren’t you roped up?’
Andy closed his eyes and shook his head, wincing with the pain. ‘We didn’t think we needed to. We judged it all wrong.’
‘Well, you can say that again,’ muttered Jack Morgan, leader of the mountain rescue team, who was co-ordinating the rescue. He threw an exasperated look in the direction of the injured youngster. ‘Who’s the other boy?’
Andy shifted on the stretcher. ‘Pete. Pete Williams.’
‘Oh, no! Not Pete!’ Ally sprinted towards the edge of the ghyll to watch the second stretcher being lifted. She’d heard via the radio communications that the team had had trouble stabilising his injuries.
She’d known Pete for years. Ever since he’d first developed diabetes. Since then he’d devoted his short life to ignoring his diabetes and trying to prove he was no different from any other young teenager by getting into one scrape after another. And now he was seriously hurt. Her heart lurched and she mentally crossed her fingers as they lifted him up. Please, let him be OK. Please.
‘He’s in a bad way—we need the air support unit, really, but the weather’s too foul. We’ll have to carry him off.’ Jack helped steady the second stretcher as they lowered it onto the hard ground. He glanced at the man who had masterminded the rescue from the bottom of the ghyll and did a double take.
‘Nicholson?’ Wide-mouthed with shock, he pushed his helmet back, a look of delight spreading across his craggy features. ‘Damn, it is you! Sean, my boy, it’s good to see you!’
Ally frowned and braced herself against a sudden gust of wind. The mist was clearing but the wind was rising steadily. ‘You know him?’
Jack grinned. ‘I do indeed. Not that I was expecting to see him. When you told me that some macho idiot had abseiled into the ghyll, I was expecting to find another crazy tourist.’
‘Oh, thanks, Jack.’ Ally closed her eyes briefly, flushing as she heard her less than complimentary description fed back to her and caught Sean’s amused glance. Oh, well, at least he wasn’t offended.
‘So how are you, Sean?’ Jack was oblivious to her embar-rassment. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Being in the wrong place at the wrong time as usual,’ Sean muttered, wrenching off one of his gloves and checking the boy over again. ‘I didn’t know you were in charge of this lot now, Jack. This lad’s in a bad way. Nasty head injury—in and out of consciousness—fractured ribs and a compound fracture of his tibia—we splinted that down below.’
‘Right.’ Jack frowned as he looked at the boy lying on the stretcher. ‘Anything else?’
‘He’s wet through from the waterfall and heading for hypothermia. His right ankle’s gone—but he was climbing in trainers so that’s hardly surprising. At a guess that’s probably why he slipped. We’ve put him in a polythene survival bag but we need to get a line in and get him off this mountain fast.’
‘Trainers? In this weather?’ Jack shook his head and exchanged a look with Sean. ‘Nothing changes, does it? The mountains are still full of blithering idiots keeping us busy. Why on earth didn’t he stay at home and watch television?’
‘It’s Wednesday. Nothing on.’ Ted Wilson, the equipment officer, grinned wryly at his team-mates, his humour ever present even in an emergency.
