Before he knew it, they were moving again.
Jenny had left the room briefly to take a call and the next minute they were wheeling the bed out of the room and looking skyward as a speck grew larger as it drew closer and the helicopter landed. Jenny greeted the young doctor who jogged across the landing pad to the double swinging doors of the Emergency Department and gave him a quick handover of Dylan and his injuries, then they were rushing Dylan out to the waiting chopper. Nick stood inside thehospital, watching as the helicopter lifted off and flew away to save Dylan’s life.
Fuck this day.
Jenny turned to Nick and lightly touched his arm. ‘Come on, I want to make sure you’re okay.’
‘Me?’ he replied, looking at her. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Yeah, but let’s just get you something to drink.’
‘I work in a pub, remember,’ he said, with a wry twist of his lips.
‘Not that kind of drink.’ She grinned back briefly before leading him to the small common area used for the maternity ward. At the moment they had no babies due and it was quiet.
Jenny pulled out two plastic cups and dug out some coffee, sugar and biscuits then put the jug on to boil.
‘That was pretty impressive,’ Nick said as she handed him a coffee.
‘It was bloody scary, is what it was,’ Jenny said, making an effort to sound matter of fact rather than weary. Now that her part was over, the adrenalin that had been pumping through her earlier was beginning to ease, leaving her exhausted and a little shaky.
‘You stayed calm and handled it like a pro,’ he said with a note of sincerity.
‘He wouldn’t have made it this far if you hadn’t been at the scene and did what you did.Thatwas impressive,’ she said. The statistics she’d learned years ago replayed in herhead: if the radial artery was severed, a person could lose consciousness in as little as thirty seconds and die in around two minutes. Time was absolutely critical. She was still a little stunned that they’d somehow kept Dylan alive this long, all things considered. ‘Not many people would have known to pack a wound and apply a torniquet like that.’
‘Training,’ he said simply.
‘As what?’
‘I was in the army.’
‘How long were you in for?’
‘Nineteen years.’
‘From the army to bartending,’ she said. ‘What made you make that kind of change?’
‘It was time to get out. I wanted to do something different.’
‘Were you trained as an army medic?’
‘I did a few courses—mostly field training in combat first aid. It came in handy when I was deployed.’
‘You were in Afghanistan?’ she asked, even more curious about him now.
‘Among other places, yeah. Feels like a lifetime ago, though.’
‘And now you’re a bartender?’
He held her gaze but gave nothing away. ‘Yep.’
‘You didn’t want to go into some kind of medical career once you left the military?’ She’d worked with a few ambos who’d been in the army, and they knew their stuff. After today, it was clear Nick had skills he could be using.
‘Nope.’
Interesting, she thought, detecting a distinct cooling in his demeanour. Clearly this was a subject matter he wasn’tcomfortable talking about. ‘Well, Dylan was lucky you were there. I didn’t realise kitchens had bandsaws,’ she said, frowning a little. Sharp knives and mincer machines she’d heard of as causes of some horrific kitchen and workplace injuries, but not a saw.
‘Most don’t, unless they process their own meat, which we do,’ he said. ‘That’s the whole foundation of the new restaurant. We use locally sourced meat. It’s cut specifically for whatever the chef needs on the night. The super-sized steaks are our signature.’
