Abbey leaned forward to touch Ryan on the shoulder.

‘Ryan, turn around. Now.’

Ryan slowed and stared.

‘Why?’

‘There’s a child been stung by a box jellyfish down on the south beach. He sounds bad.’

‘Abbey…’ Ryan was rendered almost speechless. ‘Abbey, you’ve just been hit by a car. It’s you who’s the patient-remember?’

‘No.’ Abbey’s voice was hard and firm. ‘Same rules of triage, Ryan. This is urgent. I don’t have time to be a patient. I’m the only doctor in this place and unless we get there fast this child could die. Now turn around or let me out and I’ll tell the ambulance to pick me up on the way.’

‘Abbey…’

‘Ryan, surely you remember box jellyfish stings. We’ll be lucky if he makes it. Argue later but just go.’

The child was on the beach a little way south of the surf lifesaving club. Ryan had spent the three minutes it took to reach there working out just how Abbey would cope. He finally figured she couldn’t. And he couldn’t either. Box jellyfish stings were right outside his realm.

Box jellyfish-Chironex fleckeri-were lethal. Almost invisible in the water, their tentacles stretched up to five metres in length and clung with sticky tenacity to everything they touched. Their venom was lethal. What had Ryan read? You either got enough venom to kill you or you didn’t. There was no in between.

Fortunately, the jellyfish were only around in the hottest of the summer months, Ryan remembered, and the popular beaches had stinger nets to keep them at bay. But there were always tourists who preferred to risk swimming outside the nets. That’s what must have happened here, Ryan thought. The beach south of the lifesaving club was just as beautiful as the netted area, and when it was deserted it looked much more enticing.