LITMIR.BIZ

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said, and Alistair could have blessed him. The woman’s eyes moved past him and found her son.

      ‘You have to do what the doctor says,’ Davy quavered. ‘He’s Georgie’s friend. Drink.’

      She closed her eyes. He held her mug hard against her lips and tilted.

      She took a sip.

      ‘More,’ he said, and she took another.

      ‘Great, you’re doing great. Come on, Lizzie, this is for Davy.’

      He pushed her to drink the whole mug. Sip by tiny sip. She was so close to unconsciousness that it seemed to be taking her an almost superhuman effort.

      These children were solely dependent on her, Alistair thought grimly. And she was so young. Mid-twenties? Maybe even less. She looked like a kid, a kid who was fighting for her life.

      He could help. He poured more water into a bowl, stripped back her bedding and started sponging her. ‘Can you help?’ he asked Davy. ‘We need to get her cool.’ As Davy hesitated, Alistair lifted Lizzie’s top sheet and ripped. OK, this family looked as if they could ill afford new sheets, but he’d buy them himself if he had to. He handed a handful of linen to each of the children.

      ‘We need to keep your mum wet,’ he said. ‘We have to cool her down.’ He left the woman’s flimsy nightgown on and simply sponged through the fabric.

      It was the right thing to do, on all sorts of fronts. It helped Lizzie, but it also gave the children direction. Megan seemed a bit dazed—lethargic? Maybe she was dehydrated as well. But Dottie and Davy started working, wetting their makeshift washcloths, wiping their mum’s face, arms, legs, and then starting again. It kept the terror from their faces and he could see by the slight relaxing of the tension on Lizzie’s face that it was doing her good. Cooling or not, the fact that there was another adult taking charge must be immeasurably reassuring.

      He poured another drink for the little girl—Megan—and tried to persuade her to drink. She drank a little, gave a shy smile and started sponging as well.

      Brave kid.

      Then, faster than he’d thought possible, Georgie was back. She’d run in her bare feet, and she’d hauled an oversized bag back with her.

      ‘This stuff is always in the hospital car,’ she said briefly as his eyes widened. ‘Emergency essentials.’ When she saw what he’d been doing, she stopped short. ‘Fever?’

      ‘I’m guessing way above normal. But she’s drunk a whole mug of water.’

      ‘Oh, Lizzie, that’s great.’

      But Lizzie was no longer with them. She’d slipped back into a sleep that seemed to border on unconsciousness.

      No matter. Her pulse was already steadying.

      ‘Great work, kids,’ Georgie said, setting her bag down on the floor and hauling it open. ‘With workers like you guys, you hardly need me, but now I’ve brought my bag … let’s see if what I have here might help her get better faster.’

      They worked as a team. The bag was magnificently equipped. Within minutes they had a drip set up and intravenous antibiotics and rehydration were started. Georgie had lugged an oxygen cylinder with her and they started that as well. Covering all bases.

      ‘Oh, God, if we hadn’t come …’ Georgie whispered.

      It didn’t bear thinking about. They both knew just how close to disaster the woman had been.

      ‘Check the baby,’ he said. He hadn’t had time to give the children more than a cursory check, but while they were setting up the drip Davy had lifted the baby onto his knees and was cuddling his little brother. Davy—all of six years old with the responsibility of this entire family on his shoulders.

      ‘Will you let me see him?’ Georgie said softly to Davy, and Davy glanced up at her as if he was still uncertain who to trust. She smiled down at him—a tender smile that Alistair hadn’t seen before. Another side of Georgie?

      Davy relinquished his bundle and Alistair thought, Yeah, I would too if she smiled at me like that.

      Crazy thought. Concentrate on work.

      Georgie lifted the bundle into her arms, wrinkling her nose at the stench. She laid the baby on the end of Lizzie’s bed, removed his nappy and started cleaning.

      Was this the sort of thing doctors did here? Alistair wondered. Medicine at its most basic.

      ‘Has Thomas been drinking?’ she was asking Davy.

      ‘I dripped water into his mouth when he cried.’

      ‘Good boy,’ Georgie said in a voice that was suddenly unsteady. ‘You’ve done magnificently, Davy.’ She glanced across at Alistair. ‘I’ll leave the nappy off. He’s hot as well, and probably dehydrated, like his mum. We need a drip here, too, I reckon.’

      Alistair checked the bag, and found what he needed. He swabbed the tiny arm, preparing to insert a drip.

      ‘You can do this on newborns?’ Georgie queried. Veins in neonates were notoriously difficult to find.

      ‘I’m a neurosurgeon,’ he told her. ‘Paediatrics is my specialty.’

      ‘We don’t want brain surgery here,’ she whispered. ‘We just need the ability to find a vein.’

      Which he did. The syringe slid home with ease and he sensed rather than saw the tension leave Georgie.

      She cared about these people, he thought with something akin to shock. He wouldn’t have thought it of her. But, then, she was an obstetrician. She just hadn’t acted like one the first time he’d met her.

      There was the sound of a siren, from far away but moving closer.

      ‘Davy, can you go up to the road and show them where to come?’ Georgie asked, but as Davy rose Alistair gripped his hand and held it.

      ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said. ‘Dr Georgie has done everything we need to do here. Davy, your mum’s going to be OK, and so is the baby. You found help. You’ve done everything right.’

      The little boy’s eyes filled with tears.

      ‘Go and get the ambulance officers with Dr Alistair,’ Georgie said to him. ‘And that’s the last thing we’ll to ask you to do. We’re taking you all to hospital where we can give you all a great big meal, pop you all into a lovely comfy bed near your mum and let you all have a long sleep until your mum is better.’

      There was one last complication. They wouldn’t all fit into the ambulance.

      Megan was definitely dehydrated. Thomas hadn’t been fed properly, maybe for twenty-four hours. He needed a humidicrib and intensive care. And Lizzie was waking a little more now, emerging from her semi-conscious state but moving to uncomprehending panic.

      She was gripping Georgie’s hand as if it was her lifeline. Every time she opened her eyes she searched in panic for Georgie. So Georgie had to go with her. Which made four in the ambulance. Lizzie, Megan, Thomas and Georgie.

      ‘I can’t go to hospital,’ Lizzie murmured as the ambulance officers shifted her to a stretcher. ‘Smiley’ll kill me.’

      ‘Yeah, well, maybe I’ll kill him first,’ Georgie said fiercely. ‘So it should be quite a battle. Lizzie, you’re moving out of here. I told you last time and now I’m insisting. And you needn’t be afraid of Smiley. If you agree, I’ll swing it so he never comes near you again. We’ll organise you safe housing. I swear I’ll fix it.’

      Alistair blinked. These weren’t calming, reassuring words to a desperately ill woman. But it seemed to work. Lizzie slumped back onto the stretcher and the tension seeped out of her.

      ‘You’re one of us,’ she whispered. ‘Thank God. Oh, Georgie, thank God.’

      ‘Right

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