She nodded. She was stopping for nothing, pushing doors wide, ushering the stretcher down a wide corridor to open a final door…

‘This is our procedures room,’ she told Joss as she stood aside to let them past. ‘It’s the best we can do.’

Joss stopped in amazement.

When the police sergeant had told him the only place available was the nursing home he’d felt ill. To treat this woman without facilities seemed impossible.

But here… The room was set up as a small theatre. Scrupulously clean, it was gleaming with stainless-steel fittings and overhead lights. It was perfect for minor surgery, he realised, and his breath came out in a rush of relief. What lay before him started looking just faintly possible.

‘What-?’

But she was ahead of him. ‘Are you really a doctor?’ she asked, and he nodded, still stunned.

‘Yes. I’m a surgeon at Sydney Central.’ But he was focussed solely on the pregnant woman, checking her pupils and frowning. There didn’t seem a reason for her to be so deeply unconscious.

He wanted X-rays.

He needed to check the baby first, he thought. He had two patients-not one.

‘You can scrub through here.’ Amy’s face had mirrored his concern and she’d followed his gaze as he’d watched the last contraction ripple though her swollen abdomen. ‘Or…do you want an X-ray first?’

‘I have to check the baby.’ She was right. He needed to scrub before he did an internal examination.

‘I’ll check the heartbeat. The sink’s through here. Marie will help.’

A bright little lady about four feet high and about a hundred years old appeared at his elbow.

‘This way, Doctor.’

He was led to the sink by his elderly helper-who wasn’t acting elderly at all.

There was no time for questions. Joss was holding his scrubbed hands for Marie to slip on his gloves when Amy called him back.