‘We’re in trouble,’ she said briefly, and her face was puckered in concern. She’d cut away the woman’s smock. ‘Hold the stethoscope here, Marie.’ Then, with Marie holding the stethoscope in position over the swollen belly, she held the earpieces for Joss to listen.

His face set in grim lines as he heard what she’d heard. ‘Hell.’ The baby’s heartbeat was faltering. He did a fast examination. The baby’s head was engaged but she’d hardly dilated at all. A forceps delivery was still impossible. Which meant…

A Caesarean.

A Caesarean here?

‘We don’t have identification,’ Amy was saying. ‘Will you…?’

That was the least of their worries, he thought. Operating without consent was a legal minefield, but in an emergency like this he had no choice.

‘Of course I will. But-’

‘We have drugs and equipment for general anaesthetic,’ she finished, moving right on, efficient and entirely professional in her apology. ‘The Bowra doctor does minor surgery here, but I’m afraid epidural is out of the question. I…I don’t have the skills.’

After that one last revealing falter her eyes met his and held firm. They were cool, calm, and once again he thought that she was one in a million in a crisis.

‘What’s your training?’ he started, hesitating at the thought of how impossible it would be to act as anaesthetist and surgeon at the same time-but she was before him there, too.

‘Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not a doctor,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m a nurse. But I’m qualified in intensive care and I spent years as a theatre nurse. With only one doctor in the district, I’ve performed an emergency general anaesthetic before. That’s why we have the drugs. For emergencies. So if you guide me, I’m prepared to try.’

He stared at her, dumbfounded by her acceptance of such a demand. She was a nurse, offering to do what was a specialist job. This was a specialist job for a qualified doctor!