Don't Wake Up

The tall twin warning lamps in front of her were flashing blue, indicating that the helipad was in use. Alex waited for the engine to be silenced before turning and watching for the ‘approach’ hand signal to be given.

She could hardly believe what she’d done. This impulsive decision was so out of character. She didn’t even like Detective Inspector Turner; she was well aware he regarded her as some kind of flake. She could only put her behaviour down to her earlier mood and her utter dismay and embarrassment at being rejected by Nathan Bell.

Maybe she was a flake. Her new friend, Maggie, thought so too. She had left Maggie’s house the night before vowing silently never to return. She had curled up in the centre of her double bed feeling utterly alone and afraid, and it had only been the thought of seeing Nathan Bell today that stopped her from reaching for the vodka or diazepam to help her through the night.

‘Dr Taylor, are you absolutely sure this is OK?’ her guest now asked.

His face wasn’t a closed book for once, and she saw the questions in his eyes. Are you sure we can just get on this helicopter and no one will stop us? Is this a wind-up?

Before she could answer, her name was hollered from across the field. Seb Morrisey had climbed out of the pilot’s seat and was walking with an awkward gait towards her.

‘Hello, my favourite doctor. It’s about time you got yourself back in the driver’s seat.’ His Australian accent was pleasing and his manner infectious, and she found herself laughing as he swirled her off the ground in a bear hug.

He then noticed her two guests and stepped forward with his hand outstretched. ‘You must be Mr Turner,’ he said, shaking the man’s hand. ‘And you must be Joe,’ he said to the boy. ‘Pleased you could make it. It’s going to be a nice flight. Visibility’s good for the next few hours or so.’

‘You can call me Greg, and thank you for inviting us,’ Greg Turner replied. ‘It’s really good of you.’

‘No problem, Greg. Any guest of Alex’s is more than welcome. She’s a VIP.’

Alex wanted to shut him up before he said any more, but Greg Turner had raised an enquiring eyebrow and Seb Morrisey was happy to give details.

‘She saved my life, and I mean literally.’

She cut in before he went too far with the story. ‘Shut up, Seb. Mr Turner doesn’t need to hear this. And I’m sure Joe is more interested in hearing about the helicopter.’

Seb switched his attention to the small boy. Joe’s eyes were fixed on him as if the man were a superhero come to life, which was completely understandable. Wearing a navy flight suit with silver buttons, badges and epaulettes, Seb Morrisey looked like a real-life Action Man. He was six foot two, broad shouldered, had cropped black hair and wind-tanned skin. Alex knew that most of the A & E women, and a couple of the men, swooned whenever Seb flew in with a patient.

‘Sorry, Joe,’ he said to the worshipping boy. ‘You want to know about helicopters?’

Joe nodded silently.

‘Good. Well, let me tell you they’re very easy to understand. The pilot presses pedals to turn the helicopter left or right, a bit like the pedals you get in a dodgem car. Then he moves a stick, called a cyclic pitch stick, and this tilts the helicopter forward, backwards or sideways. Finally he moves another stick, a collective pitch stick, and this lets the helicopter climb and descend vertically, which means it goes off the ground and straight up without flying anywhere first, and can land the same way.’

Seb used his hands, his arms and his entire body to mime the instruments he mentioned and illustrate the lesson for Joe. ‘Didn’t I tell you it was simple?’ he asked a few minutes later after explaining the full anatomy of the helicopter.

Joe gave another round-eyed look and silent nod.

‘So are you up to flying now?’

All three of his audience nodded.

He looked at Alex, before giving her a theatrical bow. ‘She’s all yours, Doc.’

Greg Turner nearly stumbled on hearing this. ‘You mean .?.?.? I thought .?.?. Aren’t you flying it?’

‘No, the doc is,’ was Seb’s simple answer.

*

They flew over the city and Greg took in an aerial view of the Thermae Bath Spa, Britain’s only bath fed by natural thermal waters, built on top of an ultra-modern glass building and surrounded by its historic predecessors. The Romans had built the first spas in Bath, and 2,000 years later people were still enjoying them. As he watched the tiny swimmers a thousand feet below, relaxing in the hot waters, he was reminded of Alex Taylor’s graceful, slender form.

The view of the architecture was magnificent; the sheer brilliance of the design of Bath – the Circus, the Royal Crescent, Pulteney Bridge – almost brought Greg to tears.

Seb’s voice interrupted his daydreaming. ‘So Greg, you ready to hear how the young doc saved me?’ Greg looked to his son, wary of what he was about to hear. Seb tapped his own headphones. ‘He can’t hear unless I switch him on.’ Greg nodded to carry on.

‘I was one of the victims of the 7/7 London bombings. I was minding my own business, on a day off from work, and I’d just boarded the King’s Cross train with no thoughts about anything except the lovely new girlfriend I’d left sleeping in my bed. She had beautiful red hair, and I was sitting there thinking to myself I was a lucky guy.’

‘Seb!’ Alex Taylor cut in. ‘You don’t need to tell Mr Turner this now.’

Greg could see a tinge of pink on her right cheek. ‘I’m listening, Seb.’

‘The noise was horrendous – like a tortured steel animal trying to break free. I thought initially we’d hit another train. Then in the immediate darkness came the screams. I didn’t feel anything at first. Yet I had this chunk of steel sticking out of my leg and I knew I was trapped. I kept thinking about stupid stuff like petrol and fire and I could smell rubber burning.

‘Well I thought it was over for me, especially when it became silent – I thought this was because people had been rescued. It was only afterwards that I realised why the screaming had stopped.

‘After a while I was quite happy to lie there in the dark. I stopped thinking about being afraid and I couldn’t feel my leg any more. I don’t know how much time passed; it didn’t matter any more. The next thing I know is I’m thinking I’m in heaven, I see the lovely doc’s face staring down at me. Being as skinny as she is, she got into spaces where others couldn’t and she found me.

‘She risked her life to save me, Greg. She wasn’t even a trained doctor then, just another passenger risking her life for a stranger.’

The pink in Alex’s cheek had deepened and Greg felt the story deserved an honest comment. ‘Amazing story, Seb. And Dr Taylor, let me say, if ever I face something like Seb, I hope I’m fortunate enough to have someone like you to help me.’

He switched his gaze to the splendid hills surrounding the city, a stunning landscape of deep slopes and rich grasslands in which Bath nestled. This was his home, and Greg felt contentment as he sat with these two people. He would remember this day for a long time.

Liz Lawler's books