And Alex had a feeling Louis was about to tell her to stay at the restaurant while the maître d’ had someone send a car from the chateau to collect her.
‘Forget it,’ she told Louis, standing up before he could open his mouth. ‘I’m going with you. If it’s as serious at you fear then I might be able to help.’
It was almost gratifying that he didn’t argue. He simply squeezed her hand, had a quick word with the sombrely nodding maître d’ and headed out the door.
She rushed to keep up with him, both of them silent as they jumped into the car. Louis revved the engine into life and they roared away, eventually turning off the road and onto a dirt track barely fit for a dirt bike, let alone a car.
‘Hold on,’ he advised.
Alex braced herself as the car hurtled over bumps and divots, the bottom of the car grinding worryingly as it hit the ground. Even with Louis’s skilled driving it was going to be wrecked. But, then, anyone with less skill than Louis could never have got it over this terrain in the first instance.
She saw kids desperately waving their arms fractions after Louis did. The car pulled up sharply by the boy, barely at a standstill before Louis was out and racing across, the cries of pain letting them know how close Florien was.
The terrain was, frankly, not designed for high-heeled shoes.
Alex gathered up her dress and made her ungainly way behind Louis, who turned abruptly.
‘I keep a gym bag in the boot with a change of clothes,’ he called out, and then he was gone.
Alex gratefully made her way to the back of the car, throwing it open and grabbing the bag. A pair of shorts, a T-shirt and a tracksuit greeted her, as well as a welcome pair of socks. Within minutes she was changed and hurrying the short distance across the ground. Even so, she was still a fair way behind Louis and by the time she reached them he was on his phone and barking out instructions in French.
Beyond him, lamps had been placed in a circle, shining light on a young boy lying flat on the ground. But even from that distance there was no doubt it was a femoral break, with one leg significantly shorter than the other and clearly at an unnatural angle. She made her way down the dirt mound.
‘Mid-shaft, closed fracture,’ Louis informed her as soon as he’d finished on the phone. ‘I’ve updated the emergency services and made sure an air ambulance is on its way. But they’re going to need to package him up before they transport him.’
She nodded. ‘Straighten the leg and slip the femur back in place, or at least as close as,’ she said, her voice quiet.
‘We can speed that up for them so they can get him to hospital quicker.’
‘You have a traction splint back at the chateau?’ she guessed.
‘No, we’ll make one in the field.’
Her stomach dipped with uncertainty.
‘I don’t know how.’
‘I’ll teach you,’ he said simply, matter-of-fact.
Despite her reservations, she instantly felt more confident.
‘What about pain relief? We can’t try to move the leg without anything.’
‘In this instance there’s no compromise,’ he stated. ‘I need you to find the materials.’
Quashing any reservations, she nodded her head.
‘Okay.’
‘Good.’ His brief smile filled her with warmth. ‘First I need a couple of branches. One should be about a metre and half long to run from his armpit to his foot, the other should be about just under a metre to run from his groin to his foot. Forked, if at all possible.’
‘What diameter do you want them, or does it matter?’ she hedged.
‘They’re going to support the leg so I’d say make sure they’re sturdy and thick. At least four centimetres.’
‘Okay.’ She was beginning to get the idea, and Louis’s characteristic strength was infectious.
Whatever had happened in town this afternoon, maybe they could put it aside after all.