Chapter Two
If Mitch had overheard Margaret telling the young socialite how happy he’d be to show her around, he’d have possibly burst into uncontrollable laughter. But that would have been after he’d thumped his fist against something hard and uttered several filthy swear words. Showing a visitor around the crude camp that so many were now calling home was the bloody last thing he had time for. He was far too busy trying to administer medical help under a leaking tent and without half of his much needed supplies. They were apparently still making their way across the flood stricken muddy tracks that passed for roads. And still it rained.
‘Mitch, they’re bringing in another crowd.’
Midway through examining the arm of a five year old boy for fractures, Mitch glanced up to see Tessa, his senior nurse, point towards a bedraggled group of varying ages shuffling into what was laughingly called the waiting room. In reality it was a smaller tent adjoined to the larger treatment tent.
‘Thanks, Tessa.’ Mitch smiled briefly at the head nurse before focussing all his attention back on the child. ‘It looks like you’ve broken your arm, buddy.’ He spoke softly in Spanish to the little boy with the large brown eyes. ‘But we’ll put a cast on it and soon have you as good as new.’ He ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘Have you got any family here with you?’ The boy simply shook his head, the fat tears that trailed down his cheeks telling the story far more eloquently than any words. ‘Did you get separated?’ Mitch continued gently, holding the boy’s hand.
The boy nodded and Mitch sighed. Sometimes he hated his job. ‘Don’t worry. You stay here with us. We’ll look after you until we can find your family. Okay?’
He walked the boy over to Tessa. ‘Can you sort this brave lad out with a cast and a sling?’
Tessa smiled. ‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’ She glanced in the direction of an adjoining tent. ‘Have you checked on the main ward recently? We’re filling up fast.’
Mitch ducked his head through the entrance and went to see for himself. The main ward was a preposterously grand name for what was simply yet another tent, this time filled with rows of temporary beds, most, as Tessa had implied, already occupied. With a heavy heart he ducked back to the treatment tent.
‘Poor sods,’ he muttered to Tessa. ‘And to think they’re the lucky ones.’ At least they’d managed to escape from what was left of the remote villages that had once been their homes. All too many hadn’t.
‘We do what we can. If we weren’t here, even they wouldn’t be lucky.’
She was right. In fact we do what we can was a mantra he’d repeated to the team often enough. But not for the first time he wondered how much longer he could continue to work amongst such obvious suffering.
The trouble was, having done a seven-year stint as an army doctor, he’d found it hard to settle into mainstream hospital work. Partly because treating patients who were there through their own fault — too much alcohol, too much food, too little exercise — had bugged the hell out of him, but mostly because he’d missed the thrill of life on the edge. Of never quite knowing what was going to happen next. It was while he’d been slowly going out of his mind with boredom that he’d attended a lunchtime lecture on Medic SOS. The rest, as they say, was history. Three years on and he was now the Chief Medical Officer in charge of an established core of doctors and nurses he could call on as the circumstances dictated.
But much as he loved it, the job was beginning to take its toll. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let his hair down. Done something frivolous, just for the hell of it. Being surrounded by human tragedy on a regular basis was turning him into a tougher, more serious-minded man than he’d ever intended to be. At some point he needed to have a break, take some time to relax and just enjoy life again.
With a deep sigh he walked back to the treatment room. There he was greeted with rows of traumatised faces, all waiting to be helped. These poor sods had lost their homes, probably somebody they loved, and damn near their own lives. His own life was positively privileged in comparison. Stop moaning, Mitch. Your holiday can wait.
* * *
It was late by the time the queue of waiting survivors had all been attended to. Some had been bandaged up and sent to the temporary camp to search for missing loved ones and find a place to sleep. Others were settled into the ward, too injured to be moved.
Having completed his final round and checked that each patient under their care was stable, he turned to Tessa. ‘Time for a quick team meeting, I think. Can you rally the troops?’
While Tessa disappeared off, Mitch pushed together a few chairs at the back of the treatment tent and waited for his small unit to arrive. To the outside world they probably appeared an odd bunch, but they were united in their desire to provide help to those who needed it most, usually with little concern for their own personal comfort or safety. When discussing their jobs with friends in the bar back home, the life of a medical charity worker probably sounded exciting. Reality was a much bleaker picture. A tough hide was needed to withstand the unrelenting misery of the situations they were thrown into, and the crude conditions they were expected to work and live in. Many who joined in a haze of enthusiasm and desire to do good didn’t last more than one trip. The team on this tour though were a seasoned group, part of his core team. He felt a rare surge of emotion, even affection, towards them as they slowly straggled in towards him.
‘Come on you ugly bunch. I’ve got places to go, people to see.’ His statement was met with the chorus of derisory sniggers he’d expected.
‘Even if you said that back at the office, we’d laugh in disbelief. The only places you go are work and bed.’
‘Thanks, Tessa,’ he remarked dryly as his head nurse took the seat next to him. He knew, because he’d seen her CV, she was in her early forties, but she had a face and body that could have passed for a decade younger. She’d joined Medic SOS following a divorce, determined to start her new single life in a very different environment than her married one.
‘She should know. She’s tried to entice you out often enough.’ That was from Toby, another nurse who came as a pair with his wife, Jane. They’d joined after finding out they weren’t able to have children.
Mitch grunted at Toby’s remark, uncomfortably aware of the truth behind it. When he turned to see Tessa blushing next to him, red enough he could almost feel her heat, his discomfort increased a hundred fold. She was his right hand woman. Someone he trusted, admired and enjoyed working next to. Period. He prayed that was all she felt, too. Not only did he not think of her like that, but women and work didn’t mix. Frankly women and him didn’t mix that well, either. He’d had his fair share of affairs — probably more than his share — but for reasons he couldn’t fathom, women often tried to shift things from casual and easy to permanent and complicated. Something he had no interest in.
‘Thanks, but my personal life isn’t on today’s agenda,’ he told the group gruffly just as Stuart and Roger joined them. Stuart was the other doctor in the team, not long out of medical school. Young and single, what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. Roger was a huge, burly, no-nonsense individual who made a surprisingly gentle and caring nurse. He was married, but his wife seemed to tolerate his frequent stints abroad. Some speculated that was what made their marriage work.
‘So will it be on a future agenda then, boss?’ Dan, the last one in the team, grinned as he plonked himself on the remaining chair. Single and in his mid-twenties, he was handsome and he knew it; a total ladies’ man. Officially he was in charge of logistics. Unofficially he was also the unit’s entertainment co-ordinator, which usually meant locating the nearest available bar. A place they could unwind and, for a few hours at least, block out the misery they’d witnessed during the day.
‘My personal life will never be an agenda item. Not as long as I’m still breathing,’ Mitch muttered darkly, and they all laughed.
‘Sure thing, boss. You’re our man of mystery. You’re single, like to run and swim and enjoy an occasional beer. It’s all we need to know.’ Dan grinned again, flashing a set of even white teeth. ‘Speaking of which, I’ve located the nearest watering hole. Any chance of you joining us tonight?’
Mitch shook his head, surprising nobody. They always asked, but he rarely came. Thrust together under circumstances that made for real, lifelong friendships, Mitch remained a man alone. It wasn’t that he was unfriendly. Just that he didn’t allow anyone to get close to him.
‘Right, down to the real agenda,’ Mitch announced abruptly, determinedly steering the topic of conversation back to work. ‘Dan has managed to track down the rest of our supplies and they should be with us tomorrow evening. In the meantime, the stuff we have has been borrowed from the hospital in the next town. Use it wisely.’
His grim expression said all it needed to. They weren’t to waste it on patients who weren’t going to make it.
‘On a lighter note, we have a visitor, Brianna Worthington, joining us tomorrow for a week. As she’s the patron’s daughter, I guess that means we’ll have to be on our best behaviour.’ His wry grin caused his eyes to crinkle and the hearts of the women to flutter. ‘Without the money, we don’t exist.’
‘Better put me in charge of looking after her then,’ Dan interrupted cockily.
Mitch chuckled and his harsh features temporarily relaxed. ‘I can’t think of a man more suited for the job. I was going to say she’ll be in safe hands, but frankly with you, I’m not so sure.’
‘She might prefer the quieter, more sensitive type,’ Stuart interjected, a determined glint in his eye. ‘I think I should be responsible for showing her around.’
Mitch shook his head. ‘Come on, guys. The woman hasn’t even arrived yet and already she’s causing trouble. She might be fat and ugly for all you know.’
‘Yeah, but she’s going to be loaded,’ Dan replied sheepishly. ‘That would sure make up for any disappointment in the looks department.’
Rolling his eyes heavenwards, Mitch sighed. ‘Well someone has to pick her up from the airport tomorrow. Maybe you boys should flip a coin. Meanwhile go and make merry, but for God’s sake behave yourselves. Roger and I will hold the fort.’
Mitch watched them bustle out of the tent, their minds already on a well-deserved night off. Sometimes he wished he could be like that. It must be great to drink, relax and share experiences, but he hadn’t been made that way. He couldn’t do small talk. He couldn’t share confidences. Heck, he couldn’t even relax properly in the company of others, even those he knew well. All of which meant there were very few people in his life he had ever been close to. He had a couple of friends from the army but they were now married and he felt like such a spare part when they all hooked up, it seemed easier not to bother. Besides, he was happy with his own company. Frankly he preferred it to the effort of making conversation with others.
‘Sleep or ward duty?’ he asked Roger, who shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘Okay, toss you for it.’
‘Heads.’
Mitch flipped the coin, took a quick look and then thrust it back into his pocket. ‘Unlucky. You’re on duty.’
‘Hey, wait a minute. I didn’t see that.’
‘Calling me a liar?’
Roger chuckled — a sound quite incongruous with his big, brawny looks. ‘Sly and sneaky, yeah, but a liar? Nah. Heads it is. Enjoy your kip.’
While Roger went to take his turn on ward duty, Mitch made his weary way back to his tent. Luxurious it wasn’t. A camp bed, an oil lantern and a table and chair that doubled up as a desk when he needed to catch up with his paperwork. Something he’d fully intended to do when he’d called tails on a coin that had turned up heads. But the moment he spied the bed, exhaustion crept up on him and instead of sitting at the makeshift desk, he lay down. In this job he’d learnt to sleep whenever he got the opportunity.