Chapter 139

They pulled up outside the farmhouse and Louisa climbed carefully down from her seat. She picked up her case from the floor as well as her handbag. Turning, she moved towards the front door and felt a little twinge in her back. She put it down to having to carry her case, and thought no more about it.

By this time it was getting on towards lunchtime. "What would you like for lunch, Louisa?"

"Just a sandwich, thanks Joan. Egg or cheese or tomatoes. Whatever you have."

"I've got some cheddar cheese, will that do? Do you want it on toast, or in a sandwich?"

"Just in a sandwich, thanks."

Joan set to and made the sandwiches, putting a bit of lettuce in as well as slices of tomato.

"Joan? You said about if anything happened to me, it would be the last straw for Martin?"

Joan looked at her. Should she tell Louisa more about his horrible upbringing, or would that breach his privacy? In the end she just said, "Figure of speech, dear. Having something happen when he wasn't able to help, would weigh heavily on him. I know you would have worked it out for yourself, in the end, but I thought I should help you in the right direction."

"Oh. Right. I hope I would have, too."

"Are you going to have a nap, this afternoon? Martin's old bedroom is available if you do. I have to go and weed a veg patch. That will give you an hour's peace and quiet."

"Yes, thank you. I'll read some of my book and then see how I feel. I'll wash up first though."

"There's no need…" began Joan.

"I'd like to do something, Joan. I can't very well weed, but I can wash up!"

"Fair enough. Thanks."

Joan got up and then went to change her shoes for her tatty gardening shoes. She went out to her shed and gathered the hoe and spade she would need. Louisa watched her go over to the neat rows of veg and begin to dig out the weeds. She marvelled yet again; how dedicated Joan was to getting the most out of her land.

After she'd finished the dishes, she retreated to the couch with her novel and picked up where she'd left off. As she sat there, she became aware of a feeling of lethargy and so took herself up to the little bedroom. She lay down and stared up at the ceiling. She hoped Martin was coping with his emergency…. And that was her last thought before drifting off to sleep.

In fact Martin had driven swiftly to the farm and had located the patient. The man had his hand caught in a muck-spreader and was in imminent danger of having it ripped off. Martin blanched when he saw the blood on the floor. The farmhand who'd called him said the fire brigade were also on their way.

"How did this happen?" Martin wanted to know.

"There were a blockage, an' he reached in to try an' clear it. 'is 'and was caught." The man explained.

Martin shuddered. "I take it the machine is switched off now?"

"Yer, Doc. I turned the key off."

Martin knelt down and assessed the situation as best he could. The man's hand appeared to be impaled on a spike and the blood was oozing out. "Torn artery" he thought. Martin got a tourniquet out of his bag and fastened it around the injured arm. "Mr er? "

"Frank, " gasped the farmer. Frank Turner."

"I'll give you something for the pain, and then try and free your hand. Try not to pull on it or move away."

He gave the man a pain-killing injection and after a short waiting time for it to take effect, he had a go at lifting the hand free. Unfortunately, the spike was clean through the hand and he was unable to effect sufficient lift.

The sound of approaching sirens alerted them to the arrival of the fire brigade. The lead fireman came over. "What we got here, then Doc?"

"Mr Turner's hand is trapped on a spike. I've sedated him and put a tourniquet on his arm to slow the bleeding. Can you get his hand free?" Martin stepped away to give the fireman sufficient space to see the problem for himself.

The fireman moved around to check out various possibilities and decided they would have to cut the spike off, from underneath Turner's hand. He shouted to one of his men, "Bring the small electric handsaw and a leather sheet protector."

When he got the requested items, he slit the leather sheet such that it would go around the spike, underneath the hand. Then he set to and began to saw the spike.

Turner yelled as the vibrations unsettled him. However he realised that it was the vibrations, rather than actual severe pain, which was the problem. He settled back and the fireman continued to saw the spike. Eventually the hand with the spike through it came away.

Martin stepped up again to wipe the excess blood away and inspect the cut. There was no way to remove the spike there, it would have to be done under general anaesthetic, in hospital. Martin, who was pale and sweating, wrapped a bandage around the hand, mainly to try and staunch the blood.

The ambulance which had rolled to a stop a short distance away, disgorged two paramedics. Martin indicated the spike, "Don't remove that. It will require an operation." He looked at Turner, "Are you allergic to penicillin?"

Turner looked up at him, "I don't think so, Doc."

Martin nodded. "I'll give you an injection of amoxicillin to counteract the infection which will almost certainly occur." Suiting actions to words he took an ampoule of the antibiotic and injected it into the man.

They waited for a few minutes, but Turner showed no sign of distress. "Right, you can tell them he's had a pain-killing injection and the antibiotic. Keep his hand elevated higher than his heart. Go as quickly as you can. I will follow you along to the hospital."

The paramedics did what they'd been asked and set off.

Martin walked to a nearby fence and vomited into the grass. He wiped his mouth and headed back to his car.

"Will he be OK, Doc?" asked the farmhand.

"Er, yes. I think so. Obviously, he will need an operation to remove the spike, a course of antibiotics once any infection has been identified and then physiotherapy after the wound has healed to restore movement. So, yes, I think he should be fine. Hopefully, he won't be as stupid, ever again."

Martin went back to his car and grimaced as he eased into the pristine Lexus with his now stinking and dirty trousers, marking the seat.

He set off to follow the ambulance.

At the farm, Louisa was suddenly awakened by a pressing need to go to the loo. She got up and made for the door. As she did so she was mortified by a trickle of fluid down her leg. She hurried into the bathroom, pushing her trousers and underwear down. It dawned on her, as she sat there, that the fluid wasn't actually urine. Then came the realisation that it was her waters breaking! She became flustered trying to work out what to do. Eventually she calmed down a bit and thought of Dr Lewis saying that things generally took a while to develop. She cleaned herself off and stepped out of her trousers. After washing her hands she peeped out of the door, but couldn't hear Joan. She crept downstairs and retrieved her case, where she knew she had clean clothes. She returned to the bedroom before dressing again. She had used the maternity sanitary pad and felt safer knowing she would not disgrace herself again.

She returned to the bathroom, picking up her discarded clothes before going back downstairs. As she was about to throw them into the washing machine, she saw a brown mucous deposit on her panties. That was when she knew she was definitely in labour.

The washing machine began its cycle and she moved to the window to look for Joan. As she did so she was conscious of a pain in her abdomen.

She went outside and called for Joan, who slowly began to walk back to the house. When she got near enough Louisa told her that her labour had started.

"But it's not due for another week!" gasped Joan.

Louisa smiled. "They have their own timetables, remember?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Would you take me to the hospital, please?" asked Louisa.

"Of course. What about Martin?"

"I'll phone him now and let him know what we're doing."

She went back into the kitchen to get her phone. She tried twice, but there was no answer. "Must be in a black spot," she thought.

When Joan came down with her case, together with a towel they moved outside to get in the car.

"I've had to use your washing machine, Joan. My trousers were wet. Will it be OK to leave it on?"

"Yes, no problem. Did you get through to Martin?"

"No, perhaps he's in a black spot?"

"If he's up on Bodmin, that's a possibility. Here, sit on this." Joan handed her the towel.

They set off, and at first Joan was driving too quickly and Louisa was being jiggled from side to side.

"Can you slow down a bit, please Joan? I'm being tossed about a bit."

"Sorry – I've never done this before."

"Me either. Dr Lewis said that my contractions would increase in speed and severity, but so far, I've not had a second one."

"When did you have the first?" enquired Joan.

"Just before I came out to get you. I didn't look at the time."

Louisa knew it would take them approximately 50 minutes to get to the Royal Cornwall. She watched the scenery going by, trying not to think about the next few hours.

A quarter of an hour later she felt another contraction, and this time she did check her watch. Joan looked at her briefly but Louisa didn't look to be in too much discomfort. Further along the road, Louisa again tried to contact Martin. Still no answer. She sighed, hoping that he would eventually pick up her call.

Road traffic was moderately heavy, given that it was a summer Saturday. The truck rolled smoothly on. Louisa tried again to contact Martin, but still no reply.

The third contraction hit about 20 minutes later. This one made Louisa gasp, and clutch at her abdomen.

"Another one?" asked Joan.

"Yes. It was 20 minutes after the last one, and a bit more painful. Speed limits meant that Joan could not increase her speed any more, but as far as she was able, she didn't slow down either.

About a quarter of an hour after the last one, Louisa was struck by another contraction, fortunately they were only minutes from the hospital. When it had stopped, she tried Martin's phone again.

"Louisa? Are you alright?" Martin's welcome gentle voice sounded wonderful to her.

"Martin! My contractions have started! My waters broke and then they started."

"Louisa where are you?"

"Only about three minutes away from the hospital. Joan's driven me there. How long before you can get here?"

"I'm in A&E right now. I can be at the maternity emergency entrance very quickly."

Louisa teared up. "P..please, hurry Martin."

She switched the phone off. Joan pulled up outside Maternity. "You go on in, Louisa. I'll go and park up. Is Martin here?"

"Yes, he's at the A&E department. He'll be here shortly.

Louisa got out and walked unsteadily towards the entrance. The automatic doors whooshed open and she went to reception. "Can you help me? My contractions have started. I'm Louisa Ellingham."

"Are you booked to have your baby here?" asked the receptionist.

"Yes. Yes. I'm Louisa Ellingham…!"

The receptionist checked her computer screen, but could not see Louisa's name. "When are you due?" she asked doubtfully.

"Next Saturday, but it's happening now!" Louisa's voice became raised.

The receptionist reprogrammed to look at the next week's calendar. "Oh yes, I can see it now. Can you walk along there, to where it says Admissions?"

Louisa said she could and set off. When she got there a nurse came to talk to her. "Name please?"

Once again Louisa issued her name.

"Are you having contractions?"

Just as she was about to say 'yes', another one hit. This one was more severe than the last and had happened at 15 minutes.

"Come this way Mrs Ellingham, we'll get you sorted." She led the way to a small room where there was a bed waiting. She gave Louisa a gown and said, "Would you mind getting undressed and into the gown, please? I'll leave you to it for a few minutes."