PART ONE

There was smoke billowing everywhere. Car horns beeped aggressively, tyres screeched and people screamed endlessly. Sirens began to fill the air as the smoke thickened, disguising the bright orange fire. But the horrid crackling could not be masked. A motorbike lay on its side in shreds, its rider missing. There was a smear of blood beside it and a trickling stream of petrol snaking its way towards the flames.

"Help us! Please God help us!" the sound of a man's voice screeching filled the night as he lay trapped beneath the upturned bonnet of a wrecked BMW. He could see the flames approaching him from the left and the petrol trickling towards from the right. He tried in vain to release his leg but the pain was unbearable. He twisted his head at an awkward angle; he saw her. A young woman with striking high cheekbones and shining long ginger hair. A motorcycle helmet lay beside her and he could see that she was in tremendous pain as she clutched at her side. Jac Naylor lifted up her head and stared back at him. Her eyes swam with tears from the immense pain. She could see the man still struggling to release his leg and motioned for him to stop.

"Help is coming," she mouthed, but as Jac turned away the petrol met with the fire and ignited silently. The man's screams turned to yelps of agony as the flames licked his face relentlessly yet all too quickly he fell silent and lay dead. The fire turned towards Jac. She couldn't move, her legs were frozen. It approached closer and closer, she could smell the flames. In another few moments it would all be over. This was how it would end. Nothing in her life amounted to anything. And then, Jac Naylor passed out.

Three Hours Earlier

"My office now!"

"Bu...?"

"Now Valentine!" Oliver's protests fell to nothingness as Jac fixed him with a trademark look of intense fury. She turned away from him and strode elegantly in the direction of her office, Oliver fell into an obedient step behind her. He didn't dare speak, one wrong word could cost him valuable theatre time and not just today, who knew how long Naylor would have him doing everyone's paperwork for? Oliver was so lost in his thoughts that he was caught unawares when Jac turned around sharply. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" She demanded.

"I thought if I could get through to the patient then we could..." He fell silently suddenly. Jac glared.

"Do you realise that thanks to your efforts Dr. Valentine, the patient is now considering taking action against you?" Oliver looked as if all the air had been punched out of him. "And that she is now totally refusing to go through with the operation, a much needed and necessary operation, at all?" Oliver couldn't speak, he just listened as she berated him. "Which means that you have just wasted my time as well as yours!"

"I don't know what to say," Oliver said helplessly.

"You never do Valentine, that's the problem." Jac sighed. "If she doesn't get that transplant...it's now or never Oliver. It's your mess, sort it!"

"How?"

"Stand on your head? Juggle? I don't know, do whatever it takes because I am not going to lose a patient because of your idiocy!" Oliver stood unmoving. "Now?"

"Right, yes, sorry," Oliver left her office with his tail firmly between his legs.

"What do you want now?" the patient sighed, obviously annoyed, as Oliver sidled into view.

"Look, Mrs. Waterman, whatever I said, I didn't mean to cause offence," Oliver pleaded. "It's just that this heart transplant is a monumentally vital operation and this is your only chance."

"I'm sorry. I know you're only trying to help but I have made my decision. I'm not having the procedure," Mrs. Waterman replied stubbornly.

"If you don't take this heart, there won't be another one," Oliver told her with determination in his voice. "You will die." Mrs. Waterman looked up at him and through the stubbornness it was obvious that she was scared.

"I'm not ready for it...what if I die on the table?"

"Ms. Naylor is an excellent surgeon, she's one of the best," Oliver reassured her.

"But there's still a risk?"

"Every operation carries some degree of risk. The risk of not having the op is far greater." Mrs. Waterman was quiet, thinking the situation over in her head. Behind them, Jac had appeared.

"Valentine." Oliver swivelled around so fast that his neck cricked. Jac sniggered. He grimaced slightly. "Has Mrs. Waterman changed her mind?"

"She's thinking it over," Oliver told her quietly.

"We haven't got all day Valentine." A sharp cough interrupted them. They turned back to Mrs. Waterman.

"I've decided," she said simply. "I will have the operation."

"You've made the right choice," Jac told her. Mrs. Waterman fixed her with a steely look.

"We'll see."

"I've spoken to UK transplant, the donor organ will be ready to pick up in half an hour," Jac told Oliver. "Is theatre being prepped?"

"I'll get on to that now," Oliver said quickly.

"Keep it together Valentine! I'm sure you want to assist?"

"Can I? That would be an amazing opportunity," Oliver could barely contain his excitement.

"Valentine?"

"Yes, Ms. Naylor?"

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Yes?" Oliver said feeling a bit unsure now.

"Lose the drool." With that, Jac walked away, leaving Oliver to reach for his face and wipe his mouth on the back of his hand.

Mrs. Waterman lay in her bed in a cold sweat. She had agreed to the transplant out of fear for a worse outcome. She knew that without a new heart she only had weeks at the maximum left but she couldn't help feeling so unimaginably scared. She had never taken such a huge risk before in her life. Maybe that was the problem? Maybe if she'd taken more risks she wouldn't be in this situation in the first place? She sighed. It was no good thinking this way. The decision was made. She had to go through with it. Nobody ever said life was easy. She hated hospitals. She had always dreaded family or friends being admitted as she would have had to visit them and face the godawful stench of a hospital ward. Now here she lay, on one of the very wards she had always despised, alone with no visitors. Not that anyone knew she was here. She and Pete had separated the previous year, before the heart problem had worsened severely.

"Mrs. Waterman is there anyone you would like me to call?" Oliver asked compassionately. She thought about this.

"My husband, his number is in my phone," she beckoned feebly at her belongings beside the bed. Oliver nodded and took out the phone. "Pete." Oliver nodded again as he scrolled through the contacts. He found it and quickly scribbled down the number on his hand. He replaced the phone in her bag and headed to the Nurses Station.

"Hello is that Pete Waterman? It's Dr. Valentine here from Holby City Hospital. We have your wife here on Darwin Ward..." Jac watched Oliver carry out his tasks and couldn't help feeling just a tiny bit proud of him. It had been a whole two hours since his last screwup. She checked her phone.

"Valentine." Oliver had just put down the phone. He looked up at Jac and nodded. "I need to go get that heart," she told him. Oliver nodded again. "What are you, Churchill the nodding dog?" Without waiting for a response Jac strode towards the locker room.

With a satisfying rumble, Jac's prized motorbike roared to life and set off on its journey. The sun was shining, the roads were clear and the motorbike was riding in perfect condition. Jac never saw it coming. There was no time to steer out of the way. No time to slow down. It came out of nowhere. Something ploughed straight into her side and she could feel herself being lifted out of the seat and flung sideways like a sack of potatoes. Jac Naylor hit the ground with a sickening crunch. Her helmet had become dislodged in the collision and now slipped off entirely. It lay beside her, cracked. Jac could hear the screech of metal on tarmac as her bike slid along the road. Then the sound was replaced by the frantic howls of car horns as vehicles going both ways swerved frantically to avoid the obstacles that littered everywhere. Jac could sense it happening before it did. Two cars collided head on and flipped over each other. The first car, a BMW, flipped over and over, the driver's door flew open and its occupant felt himself toppled out on to the street below. He looked up just as his car flipped one last time and came to a rest, bonnet down on his right leg, pinning him to the ground. The other car erupted in flames, whilst Jac's motorbike slowly leaked petrol.

TO BE CONTINUED