‘No, I-’

‘No reaction to morphine?’

‘No, but-’

‘Then let’s stop things hurting,’ he said. He should set up a mask but he was forming priorities as he went. A mask meant he’d need to stay with her while she slowly gained the level of pain relief she needed. But he had a birth on his hands. She had brought the dog, after all.

‘I don’t need morphine,’ she muttered.

‘Tell me it’s not hurting.’

She hesitated. Then, ‘It’s hurting,’ she conceded.

‘You came to the doctor’s. I assume that’s because you were looking for medical help.’

‘Your house is the first house out of bushland. But when I saw your sign…I was looking for help with the dog.’

‘I’m not a vet. I’ll do my best for her, but-’

‘Her?’

‘Her. But we’ll get you sorted first. I’ll give you something to stop the vomiting as well.’ He hesitated, his eyebrows still raised. Waiting for her agreement. She looked at the syringe. Then she winced again and nodded.

‘I suspect you’ve been brave enough for a lifetime tonight,’ he said gently, swabbing her thigh. ‘I need to go back to your dog but can you quickly tell me what happened?’

‘I’m on my way to Campbelltown,’ she said, closing her eyes as the needle went in. Then opening them again. ‘Hey, not bad. That hardly hurt.’

‘I’m a doctor,’ he said, and smiled. ‘It’s what I do. So then?’

She was still having trouble talking. Shock, exhaustion and fear had taken quite a toll. ‘Anyway, I’d sort of deviated from the main Campbelltown route. I…I needed thinking time. So I didn’t know the road. And then there was a car in front of me. An ancient car that trailed smoke. It was weaving as if the driver was drunk. It was just after dark. The road was narrow near the cliffs beside the river, and suddenly the rear door of the car opened and the dog was thrown out.’

‘Thrown…’

‘They pushed him,’ she said, horror flooding into her voice as she recalled. ‘Right into the path of my car. I would have hit him but I swerved.’