Feisty Firefighters Bundle Read online

  ‘No, I bloody wouldn’t.’

  ‘So are you going to go back to England with this Shelley, then?’ Stick sounded worried.

  ‘No. Of course not.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll want to stay here,’ Stick suggested morosely. ‘Maybe she’ll want to marry her kid’s father.’

  ‘Would you do that, Jase?’ Cliff gave his younger colleague a speculative glance.

  ‘Hey, I’m not going to marry someone I don’t love. I’m not that stupid. But I’m not going to desert my kid either.’

  Laura wasn’t the only one to sense the internal conflict but she was quite sure she was more bothered than anyone else in the room. What if Mrs McKendry’s impressions had been wrong and this Shelley was intending to come back? Whatever intentions Megan’s mother had, she had laid a very solid base by leaving the baby in Jason’s care. It had been a clever move. Jason was a very decent bloke. He was starting to care about Megan, whether he realised it or not. His daughter could prove to be a very powerful bargaining tool if this Shelley Bates was planning to manipulate him into doing more than babysitting.

  ‘Maybe you should go for custody, then,’ Bruce advised.

  Laura bit her lip. If Jason did that, he would need someone to help-full time. An even wilder thought occurred. If Jason married her, he would be safe from whatever manipulative plans Megan’s mother might have. She shook her head imperceptibly to chase the thought back to where it belonged, which was precisely nowhere. As if!

  ‘Yeah.’ Cliff was backing Bruce up. ‘She’s already proved herself to be an unfit mother by dumping the kid on a doorstep. You’d be in with a good chance of winning, mate.’

  Jason was looking positively alarmed. ‘I didn’t say I wanted to keep it,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Her,’ he amended just as hastily.

  They all heard the disapproving sniff that came from the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll pay maintenance,’ Jason said defensively. ‘And send her birthday presents and stuff. If she is living overseas, she can come and visit me for holidays when she’s a bit older.’

  ‘Like in ten years’ time?’ Stick offered.

  Jason’s wide grin was relieved. ‘Works for me, mate.’

  The sniff was at much closer range this time. ‘Has that bairn finished her bottle?’

  Jason held it up. ‘Every drop, Mackie. See?’

  ‘Time you changed her nappy, then.’

  Jason caught Laura’s eye at the same instant her pager sounded. She grinned. ‘Sorry, buddy. You’re on your own this time.’

  Tempted to grab that last muffin on her way out the door, Laura was pleased when she managed to dismiss the urge. Whether it was the lack of sleep or the stress of caring for a baby that was doing it, her clothes felt slightly looser than they had four days ago. It wasn’t a huge difference but she rather liked the sensation of comfort it gave her.

  The call was a priority one response to a ‘shortness of breath’ case.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ Tim queried as they cleared the garage. ‘Asthma, pneumonia or heart failure?’

  Laura flicked the switch to start the beacons flashing. Her finger was poised over the control for the siren but the road was quiet enough for it not to be necessary yet. ‘Could be an acute myocardial infarction,’ she offered. ‘That can make you a bit short of breath.’

  ‘So can smoke inhalation.’ Tim pulled the map from the pocket between the gear shift and the dashboard. ‘We were lucky with that kid this morning, weren’t we?’

  ‘I’ll say.’ Laura smiled. A job like that always reminded her how much she loved this career. It more than made up for all the time and effort spent on less than genuine cases.

  Like the one they were dispatched to as their final call for the day. The ‘traumatic injury’ turned out to be back pain that the grossly overweight, middle-aged woman had been suffering from for ten years.

  ‘Has it got any worse suddenly today?’ Laura asked.

  ‘No. And it hasn’t got any better either.’

  ‘Who called for the ambulance?’ A thin, tired-looking man had opened the door to them and Laura was assuming he was their patient’s husband.

  ‘I did,’ the woman said belligerently. ‘What am I supposed to have done? The doctor’s bloody useless. I rang him and he said to take some pills. I’m a bloody walking pharmacy as it is. I rattle when I walk. I’m fed up to the back teeth with taking bloody pills.’

  ‘What medications are you on?’ Laura was beginning to understand why the man was so quiet and weary. She’d only been in the room for two minutes and she was more than ready to escape. Tim was having trouble getting the Velcro on the extra-large size of blood-pressure cuff to meet around her upper arm. He was also carefully avoiding Laura’s eye and she suspected he was having difficulty keeping a straight face.

  ‘Ow!’ The oversized arm was moved enough to displace the disc of Tim’s stethoscope. ‘That hurts.’

  ‘It’ll only be tight for a few seconds,’ Tim responded patiently. ‘Try and keep still.’

  Laura caught the gaze of the man. ‘Has your wife got a list of her medications anywhere?’

  ‘She’s not my wife, she’s my mother.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Maybe living with the woman had aged him rapidly. Laura was feeling older by the minute. If the squeeze of a blood-pressure cuff was enough to elicit such an agonised response, the back pain was probably no more than a mild ache. Her impression that they were wasting their time strengthened as she read the list of medications.

  ‘So you’re taking pills for your high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, airways disease, depression, weight control, constipation and pain-is that right?’

  ‘Isn’t that enough?’

  Laura stepped over an overflowing dinner plate that was being used as an ashtray. ‘When was the last time you were in hospital, Mrs Pearce?’

  ‘Two weeks ago.’

  ‘And what was that for?’

  ‘Stomach pain. Something terrible it was. I was in bloody agony.’

  ‘What did they say at the hospital?’

  ‘They gave me six enemas. Six! If they knew what they were doing it should have only taken one. They’re all useless, the whole lot of them, and I told them so.’

  ‘Did they say anything else?’

  Mrs Pearce’s son sighed heavily. ‘They told Mum to stop smoking, lose some weight and start getting some exercise.’

  ‘And I told them, if they could do what they’re supposed to be doing and fix me up then I might be able to start doing some bloody exercise. What do they expect? Some sort of miracle? I have enough trouble getting out of my chair and they seem to think I can go trotting around the block at the drop of a bloody hat.’

  Tim had finished taking basic vital signs and filling in the paperwork. ‘There’s no real need for you to go to the hospital right now, Mrs Pearce. You’ll end up waiting for hours and then being sent home, probably with exactly the same advice you were given last time. Is that what you want?’

  ‘I want to get fixed up. I’m not going to get anywhere if I just sit at home and put up with it, am I?’ She glared at Tim. ‘It’s the squeaky door that gets the bloody oil.’

  ‘Fine.’ Laura wanted to get this job over with. ‘But you’ll need to walk out to the ambulance for us, Mrs Pearce.’

  ‘I can’t move. My back’s too sore.’

  Laura caught Tim’s eye. Their patient weighed at least a hundred and forty kilograms. They would be lucky to fit Mrs Pearce onto a stretcher with both sides down, and a scoop stretcher would probably buckle under the strain.

  ‘We’ll need to get some help to move you, in that case,’ Tim said tactfully. ‘That might take a while.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m fat?’

  Yes! Laura wanted to shout. You are grossly overweight and we’re not going to wreck our backs when you’re probably perfectly capable of walking. You’re wasting our time and we’re not going to be popular when we hand you over to emergency department staff who hav