Dance-of-the-Snake-Yvonne-Whittal Read online

  plan doesn't work.' - 'Well, I'm certainly crossing my fingers and hoping for the

  best,' Jessica sighed. 'Megan is a lovely child.'

  'You can say that again,' Olivia agreed wholeheartedly. 'If Vivien doesn't do

  something about her, then I'm tempted to adopt her myself.'

  Jessica smiled to herself. 'You're too soft-hearted, Olivia.'

  'Listen who's talking!' Olivia laughed softly, and their conversation ended

  moments later.

  With Jessica being kept busy most of the time, it was inevitable that Vivien and

  Megan would become almost inseparable during the days that followed, and

  Vivien was most insistent that Megan sleep with them on those nights when

  Jessica was on call. Jessica protested, naturally, but not too much, and Megan

  quite happily took her toothbrush and her pyjamas up to the O'Brien house on

  those evenings when there was a possibility that Jessica might be called out to a

  patient.

  During Megan's second week at Louisville, Jessica drove out to the forestry

  department with Dane one morning. This was a monthly ritual for Dane, but it

  was Jessica's first, and she looked forward to it with a degree of anticipation.

  'On the whole,' Dane explained to her as they drove away from Louisville, 'the

  lumbermen are a fairly healthy lot, and who wouldn't be with all that sunshine

  and fresh air they enjoy?'

  The clinic, however, was packed with patients that morning, and Dane took

  care of the men, while Jessica saw to the women and children. It was well into

  the afternoon before they drove away from there along the dusty road curving

  through the tall pines and gum trees, and Jessica felt pleasantly tired as she

  leaned back in her seat.

  The Mustang was a fast car, and they reached the main road within a few

  minute§. The mountain pass lay ahead of them; a steep, winding road which was

  the gateway into the heart of the bushveld, and it was on one of those sharp,

  clearly defined bends that they encountered an empty cattle truck that had

  crashed through the safety railing to balance precariously over the edge of the

  road, but they were not the first to arrive on the scene of the accident. There were

  several cars parked just off the road, and people were milling about aimlessly as

  if they were not quite sure what to do.

  'Am I glad to see you, Dr Trafford!' one man shouted, disengaging himself

  from the crowd and approaching them quickly. 'We need help. This man,' he

  pointed to the black man who was seated on the side of the road with his head in

  his hands, 'managed to jump out before the truck hit the railing, but the driver is

  still there in the cab, and we don't know whether he's alive or dead.'

  'Get in your car and drive out to the Forestry Department as quickly as you can,'

  Dane rapped out the command while Jessica took her bag arid approached the

  injured man. Tell them what's happened, and ask them to bring along a crane,

  or something with which to pull the truck back on to the road,'Jessica heard

  Dane instruct the man. 'And while you're there, get them to telephone the

  hospital in Louisville. We need an ambulance urgently.'

  'I'm as good as there already,' the man said, and Jessica straightened from her

  examination as his car roared back the way they had come moments before.

  This man has a few minor lacerations and bruises,' Jessica explained as Dane

  approached her, 'but what about the one trapped in the cab?'

  'I wish to hell I knew, but he'll have to wait until we have this truck back on

  the road,' Dane replied tersely, summing up the situation.

  'I don't think it can "wait,' Jessica told him quietly, opening up her medical

  bag arid taking out whatever she might require to place it in the scarf which

  she had removed from about her throat.

  'What do you think you're doing?' Dane demanded sharply when she had tied

  the knots securely and had slipped the scarf, with its contents, down the front

  of her blouse.

  'I'm going to climb on to the back of that truck, and I think I'll be able to

  reach the cab that way,' she said, secretly thankful that she had chosen to wear

  slacks that morning. 'I've got to get to that man.'

  'Are you crazy?' Dane demanded with incredulous harshness. 'That truck

  could go over that edge at the slightest puff of wind!'

  'You know as well as I do that one of us has got to * reach him, Dane, and I'm

  the obvious choice.'

  'I'm damned if I'll allow it!' Dane exploded with a savagery that made her

  flinch inwardly, but her determination remained unaltered.

  'For God's sake, Dane!' she cried anxiously. 'If he's not

  dead already, then he could be bleeding to death!'

  'Jessica, you're not risking your life '

  'I'd rather risk my life trying to save someone else's than stand here waiting

  and doing nothing.'

  'I have a rope in my car,' one of the men who had stood around aimlessly

  interrupted their argument. 'We could tie it to the back of the truck and secure it

  to that tree on the opposite side of the road, and if we could motivate some of

  these people into warning oncoming traffic, then the rest of them could pack a

  few rocks on to the back of the truck which might just balance it to ac-

  commodate the lady's weight.'

  Dane swung round to glare at the man. 'Now look here, I

  '

  'I like your suggestion,'Jessica interrupted hastily, 'but be quick about it.'

  'I'll be as quick as I can, lady,' the man assured her, and somehow his activity

  and his issued commands spurred everyone into action.

  'Do you know what you're doing?' Dane demanded of Jessica when she was

  finally given the signal that she could climb on to the truck.

  'Yes, I do,' she replied grimly, looking up into steel- grey eyes narrowed

  against the sun.

  'You're risking your life for someone who might already be dead.'

  'I know, but I have to make sure.' She glanced contemplatively at the truck,

  then back at Dane. 'That truck is balanced too dangerously, Dane, to take your

  weight, and one of us has to go up there, you know that, don't you?'

  'I know that, damn you, but '

  'Give me a hand up, and let's say no more,' she interrupted him urgently, and

  he looked oddly white about the mouth when he stepped towards her.

  'In the name of heaven, Jessica, be careful,' he warned

  hoarsely, and she nodded.

  'I'll be careful.'

  He lifted her from behind, his fingers biting into her flesh, and when her

  hands gripped the steel rails of the roofless cage on the back of the truck the

  vehicle swayed and creaked protestingly beneath her while she found a

  foothold. Dane shouted an order, his voice harsh, almost unrecognisable, and

  several more rocks joined those at the extreme end of the truck beneath her feet

  as she climbed over carefully. She was perspiring freely on that hot September

  afternoon, and she was more than a little frightened, but she had to reach that

  injured man in the cab. Slowly and carefully she moved across the dirty floor of

  the truck while rocks were added and the rope was tightened systematically.

  The smell of cow dung cloyed the air, but she barely noticed this as the truck

  swayed again, sending loose stones and g
ravel scattering down the sheer

  precipice, and the worst part was still to come. She had to climb over the

  railings directly behind the cab, and when she did so she found herself staring

  down into the gaping chasm beneath the suspended wheels of the truck. Nausea

  pushed up into her throat. She had never been able to stand heights, but there

  was no turning back now, and she had to go on.

  She could hear Dane's voice as he shouted out instructions, but nothing

  registered at that moment as she clutched at the railings and placed a wary foot

  on the step beside the cab door. 'Don't look down!' she warned herself, and her

  hair clung to her damp forehead when her hand touched the handle and pushed

  it down. The door opened on dry, squeaking hinges, but it was with a measure

  of relief that she eased herself into the cab and seated herself gingerly on the

  seat beside the black man who lay slumped unconsciously over the steering

  wheel.

  She closed the door, feeling more secure that way, then she turned to examine

  the man beside her. Blood was oozing freely from a cut against his temple, and

  there was a suggestion of blood on his lips, she noticed as her hands roamed

  expertly over his inert body, seeking further injuries.

  'Jessica?' she heard Dane shouting her name.

  'It's all right!' she shouted back. 'He's still alive!'

  'Only just,' she muttered anxiously to herself, her eyes on the snapped steering

  wheel while her fingers sought the weak, fluttering pulse.

  Quickly she removed the scarf with its precious contents from the inside of her

  blouse, and set to work. The minutes eased by slowly, but Jessica had lost all

  conception of time, and she was blessedly no longer aware of the danger she was

  in. She was concerned only for the welfare of her patient at that moment, and she

  thanked God that he was unconscious and oblivious of the pain.

  'Hang on, will you,' Dane's voice reached her ears after what seemed like an

  eternity had passed. 'I can see the Forestry Department's crane coming up the

  road.' A few seconds later Jessica herself heard the sound of that great, labouring

  machine approaching them, and she heard, too, Dane's impatient, 'Hurry up, blast

  you!'

  Jessica worked on steadily amidst the sound of shouted commands and running

  feet, pausing only to wipe the perspiration from her eyes. Help had arrived, and

  she hoped it would not be too late.

  'Sit tight, Jessica,' Dane shouted down to her at last. 'They're going to haul the

  truck back on to the road, and the going might be rough.'

  'Go ahead, I'm ready,' she shouted back and, bracing herself with her feet

  against the dashboard, she tried to hold the man beside her as steady as possible

  to prevent further injury from any jarring movements.

  The strong smell of petrol was in her nostrils, and, as the truck began to move

  backwards steadily on to the road, her fear returned, and she shut her eyes tightly,

  sending up a silent prayer for their safety. The slightest spark could blast them

  into oblivion, and then all her efforts would have been in vain.

  The truck groaned and creaked, slithered and swayed beneath her, then

  suddenly and miraculously, it was all over. The ambulance arrived with its sirens

  wailing, and the door beside her was wrenched open.

  Jessica I'

  Her name was a hoarse cry from a man who was hardly recognisable as the

  suave, immaculate Dane Trafford with whom she had arrived on the scene of the

  accident. His face was white and wet with perspiration, and his white shirt was no

  longer white as it clung damply to his wide, muscled chest. His grey pants were

  covered in dust, and his fingers were shaking as they combed their way through

  his untidy hair. She wanted to touch him, to reassure him, but there was no time

  for that.

  'You'll have to help me, Dane,' she spoke as matter-of- factly as possible. 'I

  managed to stop the external haemorrhaging, but he's unconscious and only

  barely alive.'

  He nodded, and lifted her down off the truck in silence, his hands lingering

  momentarily at her waist, but when the ambulance men arrived he set her aside,

  and assisted them in lifting the patient on to the stretcher.

  ‘I’ll travel with him in the ambulance,' said Jessica, picking up her bag and

  following in the wake of the ambulance men.

  'I'll see you at the hospital,' Dane replied tersely, and when Jessica climbed into

  the back of the ambulance, she had a brief glimpse of Dane striding towards his

  Mustang before the doors of the ambulance were shut securely.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TIME was Jessica's enemy. The man on the operating table had suffered

  multiple internal injuries, and the anaesthetist had warned that his pulse and

  respiratory system was growing weaker by .the second. Five more minutes, that

  was all that she needed. Just five more minutes!

  Dane was there, and his assistance was invaluable. They did not look at each

  other, and neither did they speak as they fought to save a man's life. The

  perspiration ran freely down the hollow of Jessica's back, and rose in tiny beads

  on her forehead which the Sister had wiped only a few seconds ago. Her gloved

  hands were steady as they worked with swift accuracy, stemming the flow of

  blood into the internal cavity, and repairing the damage to vital organs which

  had been pierced by crushed ribs, but time was running out much too fast.

  'He's gone, Dr Neal.'

  The anaesthetist's words, softly and sympathetically spoken, sliced through

  the tense silence in the theatre, and Jessica's hands stilled in the act of clamping

  off an artery. Time had won and, defeated, she turned away.

  'Take over, Sister,' she heard Dane issue an abrupt instruction as she left the

  theatre and headed towards the washroom reserved for the female theatre staff.

  Dane was following her for some reason, but she did not want to speak to

  him, and she quickened her steps. She needed to be alone, if only for a few

  minutes, to come to terms with what had occurred, and she hurriedly slipped

  into the washroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

  She disposed of her theatre garments, peeling them off "5

  one by one, but she was hardly aware of what she was doing. Where did she go

  wrong? she wondered as she stepped into the shower and turned the tap to allow

  the cold jet of water to beat against her heated skin. She tried to go over the

  operation, step by step, but her numbed brain refused to co-operate, and it was

  only when she removed her clothes off the hook behind the door of the cubicle

  that the stark reality of what had happened shocked her back to normal.

  Congealed blood stained her slacks and blouse, and it acted as a mocking

  reminder of her futile efforts. If only she had had more time! If only!

  Dane barred her way when she finally emerged from the washroom. He was

  still dressed in his theatre garb, and his expression was inscrutable as he asked,

  'Are you all right?'

  'I'm fine,' she managed through stiff lips, lowering her gaze to the mask which

  he had pulled down to beneath his square jaw.

  'These things happen, Jessica.'

  'I know,' she smiled wanly.

  'You did e
verything humanly possible.'

  'Yes.' Tears welled up in her throat, but she swallowed them down

  convulsively and looked away. 'Well, I'd better fill in the necessary documents

  and see to it that the next of kin are informed.'

  'Jessica . . .' His hand gripped her shoulder, preventing her from leaving. 'Don't

  ever risk your life like that again.'

  Their eyes met, and for a brief instant they were both reliving those frightening

  minutes she had spent in the truck with its front wheels suspended over the edge

  of the mountain road. It was something shared which made her feel oddly close

  to him at that moment, but his eyes became shuttered before her glance could

  define the unfathomable expression in them and, sighing, she shrugged off his

  hand.

  'Goodnight, Dane.'

  She felt his eyes following her down the passage until she turned the corner,

  but she dared not-look back. Tears stung her eyes and hovered on her lashes,

  and she did not want him to see her disposing of them.

  When the local newspaper emerged hot from the press the following morning,

  there was a long article on what they termed Jessica's 'Heroic deed', but Jessica

  herself barely glanced at it. There had been nothing heroic in what she had

  done. She had gone to the aid of a man in need, and he had died beneath her

  scalpel. She had failed in her attempts to save a life, and there was nothing

  heroic about that, she thought bitterly. Wherever she went that day people

  seemed to want to discuss the incident until she felt very much like screaming

  at them to 'Shut up!'

  Two evenings later Jessica answered a knock on her front door to find Dane

  standing on her doorstep with that familiar mocking smile curving his mouth.

  'Don't tell me,' she said with a hint of mockery to match his. 'You were

  passing, and when you saw my light was still on you thought you'd drop in for a

  cup of coffee.'

  His expression remained unaltered as he stepped inside, but there was a

  suspicion of sardonic amusement in his voice when he asked: 'Have you taken

  to reading my mind, Jessica?'

  'Heaven forbid that I should ever do that,' she exclaimed, closing the door and

  leading the way into the kitchen. 'I'll put the kettle on.'

  'Is Megan asleep?' he asked, watching her spoon coffee into the cups.