And the current treatment of jellyfish stings? Ryan couldn’t think. There wasn’t a lot of call for current treatments where he now worked.

Ryan glanced back at Abbey. He was driving fast and the roads were bumpy. The morphine was working but only just. She’d started to regain her colour but was now losing it again.

Ryan’s hands whitened on the steering-wheel, saying a silent prayer that her condition wouldn’t deteriorate. What if she did have a head injury?

Triage… The box jellyfish victim…

Over the next hill the surf beach lay before them as a wide ribbon of sand, bordered with coconut palms. Ryan saw the group of people clustered on the shore, decided that the worst thing that could happen was that he could bog the car in the sand-and gunned the car right down to where the child lay.

The hire-car people would have a fit if they knew, but Ryan didn’t stop until the tyres started spinning in soft sand about three yards from the child.

They’d beaten the ambulance.

Ryan’s guess had been right. The child had been swimming in unprotected water. The main beach was two hundred yards further north. This section of beach was deserted, apart from a family group in various stages of hysteria and two lifesavers who must have run from the patrolled beach. They were bent over the child, working hard.

The lifesavers looked up as the car approached, and there was real relief in their eyes.

‘Dr Wittner…’ One of them breathed Abbey’s name as he saw her, and then paused as he registered that Abbey wasn’t driving.

Ryan was out of the car almost before the car stopped, hauling the back door open so that Abbey could see and then stooping quickly over the child.