You Had It Coming by B.M. Carroll (snow like ashes series .txt) 📗

straight ahead, not trusting herself to meet his eyes.

To tell the truth, she thought she’d hear more from Bridget Kennedy. Maybe she and Jess are a long way down the list of people who had issues with William Newson. Maybe she has been worrying and casting aspersions on Alex for nothing.

‘You okay, Megs?’ She feels Lucas’s eyes raking over her face, hears the concern in his voice. She’s not okay. The reverberating shock of recognising William Newson’s face, that prickly dissatisfying meeting with Jess, speaking about the rape after so many years of silence: her façade is well and truly cracked. One look at Lucas and he’d know that she’s not okay. Then he would take her in his arms, like that night in the pub. It’s tempting.

‘Course I am. Tough as old boots!’ She takes a large glug from her cup. The caffeine courses through her bloodstream. ‘How’s Daniella?’

Nothing as grounding as bringing up his girlfriend’s name.

‘Yeah, fine. She’s thinking of going back to university to study orthodontics.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘Another three years.’

Daniella works in a busy dental practice in Chatswood. Orthodontics would suit her; she’s very up-close and detail-oriented.

‘Maybe she’ll give me a discount. My dentist wants me to get braces. Too old, too expensive, I said.’

Lucas turns her chin towards him. ‘Let’s see. Smile.’

Their faces are so close Megan can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. She sticks out her tongue before baring her teeth at him.

‘Definite overbite,’ he declares. ‘I’ll ask her about the discount.’

‘Well, she can practise on your wonky teeth before touching mine.’

They’re still laughing when the MDT lights up. The mood changes instantly.

‘Six-month-old baby with febrile convulsions,’ Megan reads out loud.

Sirens and lights. Their coffee break is over.

The mother is hysterical, the sick baby propped in her arms while a little girl pulls at her leg. Both children are red-faced and howling. Everyone is dressed in pyjamas.

‘He wasn’t well last night. I thought it was just a cold. Oh God, is he going to be okay?’

Lucas is in the process of removing the baby’s one-piece pyjamas.

‘He’s very hot,’ Megan says, speaking slowly because fear makes it hard to listen. ‘Have you given him any medication in the last few hours?’

‘Baby Panadol, a few minutes before he started fitting.’

‘How long did the seizure last for?’

‘Six or seven minutes? I don’t know exactly. Oh God, I should have brought him to the doctor last night. I’m so sorry.’

Her face is blotched from crying. Her hair hasn’t been combed. She looks like she needs a hug, a strong cup of tea, and being sent back to bed for the shock. Poor woman. It’s a scary thing, seeing a child having convulsions, even when you aren’t related to them. The toddler is still howling and adding to her stress levels.

‘No need to be sorry. You did the right thing, calling us. Have you got anyone who can come and help?’

‘My husband’s away on business. We’re new to the area. I don’t even know where the hospital is.’

The pitch of her voice rises with each statement. The toddler’s volume rises in conjunction, feeding off her distress. The baby, down to its nappy, is kicking and screaming. Megan can barely hear herself speak.

‘No problem. We can take you all with us. Grab your bag and whatever you need.’ She gives the toddler a smile. ‘You want to come for a ride in the ambulance?’

‘No!’ she wails, not the response Megan was hoping for. ‘I don’t want am-blence. I don’t want am-blence.’

‘We have lollies in am-blence,’ Lucas says helpfully.

‘Lollies! Lollies!’ The transformation is instantaneous.

Megan and Lucas share a smirk. If only adults were so easy to manipulate.

The young mother reappears in record time, wearing jeans in place of her pyjama bottoms and sneakers instead of slippers. She wrestles the toddler into a pair of sparkly pink shoes.

‘Do you need a bottle for the baby?’ Megan prompts. ‘Nappies?’

‘Oh God, yes.’

‘Keys. Phone. And don’t forget jackets, it’s cold out there this morning.’

Both kids have perked up by the time everyone’s loaded into the ambulance.

The toddler is ecstatic with the lollipop Lucas presents to her. ‘We’re going to the hob-ital,’ she announces cheerfully.

‘Yep,’ Lucas says. ‘We’re going to the hob-ital in the am-blence.’

The baby’s cheeks are less red and his eyes have regained some of their twinkle. Curious fingers reach out to touch Lucas’s nose.

‘Hey, little fella. Think you can just poke me in the face now that you’re feeling better?’

‘Do you have kids?’ the mother asks Lucas, smoothing tousled hair back from her tear-streaked face.

‘Nope. Just practising.’

He’s going to make a great father one day. This is why Megan finds it so hard to like Daniella: she is plain jealous of her. Daniella doesn’t appreciate how good he is with the kids, or how kind with the old people, or how caring to just about everyone. Megan feels the envy contorting her face; she bangs shut the ambulance doors before anyone notices.

‘That’s a wrap,’ Lucas declares, twelve hours later. They’ve completed the handover to the next crew and are walking back to their cars. It’s dark and chilly, like early this morning when they started their shift. He looks as tired as she feels.

‘Enough people saved from the jaws of death for one day.’ Megan smiles. ‘Four days off, though. What’re you going to do with yourself?’

‘Sleep. Call and see the folks. Take Daniella out for a nice meal.’

Daniella. That ugly stab of jealousy again. Can he see it on her face? Oh God, she hopes not.

‘Well, enjoy the break,’ she says, disguising the jealousy with cheeriness. ‘See you next week.’

Next week they’re rostered for 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Preferable to getting out of bed in the dark, but no chance of doing anything outside work. This job is hard on families as well as social lives. The long shifts, which can be day or night or straddling both. Home for either breakfast or dinner, but never both meals. When everything goes to plan, and there are no