‘What kind of projects?’ She didn’t quite mean the way the words came out—as if she didn’t quite believe him.
But he kept his cool even though he looked slightly amused by her questioning. ‘I did one in West Africa looking at polio and smallpox vaccination, encouraging uptake. It was hugely successful. I did another in London, working at a specialist centre that diagnosed PoTS—you know, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. Fascinating.’
She pressed her lips together. He’d gone from one end of the spectrum to the other. If the guy actually showed her his résumé she was pretty sure it was far more impressive than hers.
A pager started sounding at her waistband.
Oh, no.
He wrinkled his nose. ‘What is it?’
She started moving, crossing her room and grabbing her jacket and keys. ‘We need to go. We need to go now.’ This was exactly the reason she could do with another doctor. She tried not to smile as she turned her head. ‘If you want to start—Dr Aronaz—you start now.’
* * *
Philippe was slightly confused. He watched as Arissa changed her flat shoes for a pair of runners and pressed the button on her pager to stop it sounding. A pager in a community clinic? He wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Community clinics didn’t normally cover any kind of emergency service.
Arissa didn’t hang around. She was out of the door in a flash. For the briefest of seconds he’d felt as if he’d had to convince her to let him work alongside her. He still wasn’t entirely sure she had agreed to it. What was it about him that put her hackles up?
For another few seconds there he’d thought she was almost smiling at him. But, it had vanished in an instant. And she was already climbing into the old-style Jeep that sat outside the clinic. He didn’t hesitate. He climbed in next to her.
‘Where are we going?’
She didn’t answer as she started the car and pulled out onto the road, glancing at her watch.
He looked around him. ‘Do we have any supplies?’ If they were heading to some kind of accident they’d want a minimum amount of supplies.
She pressed her lips together. ‘There’s an emergency kit in the back. Hopefully we won’t need it.’
He leaned back into the seat, still trying to work out what was going on. The streets of Temur Sapora blurred past. Arissa kept glancing at her watch, going around a few corners practically on two wheels. Philippe gripped the handle on the inside of the door. Wherever it was they were going, she wanted to get there quickly.
He frowned as they pulled up outside a fire and rescue centre. The front door was down, the rescue truck visible through the upper windows. It didn’t look as if it was going anywhere. Whatever they were doing it didn’t involve other emergency services.
Arissa jumped out of the car and ran over to the wall. A few seconds later another black car pulled up alongside them. A fire and rescue guy jumped out too; he nodded at her. ‘Arissa.’ His footsteps slowed. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’
Philippe was more confused by the second. ‘What on earth are we doing here?’
Arissa looked over her shoulder towards him. ‘Lim, this is Dr Aronaz. My temporary workmate for the next two weeks.’ She pulled a key from her pocket. ‘Okay?’
Lim gave a nod and stood alongside Philippe, staring at the red panel on the brick wall expectantly.
There was a noise. Something he didn’t expect. His stomach clenched. Was that a baby crying? Lim glanced at him, realising his confusion.
He pointed to the pager on his belt, then gestured towards the red panel that Arissa unlocked and pulled towards her.
‘This is our safe haven. A place that someone can come and leave their baby. No questions asked. As soon as a baby is left, our pagers go off. We aim to get here within five minutes.’
Philippe couldn’t move. He was fascinated. Arissa slowly pulled out the red panel in the wall, and he realised it was a carefully constructed shelf. Inside was a squirming baby, wrapped in a thin cotton blanket. Arissa lifted the baby out gently. ‘Hello, honey,’ she said quietly, gathering the baby in her arms, and stroking its head with one light finger. The baby instinctively turned its head towards her finger—rooting. Trying to find food. This baby was hungry.
Philippe stepped forward, his curiosity too much for him. Arissa nodded. ‘Get me a pack,’ she said to Lim, who disappeared and grabbed something from the boot of the Jeep.
Arissa carried the baby over to the Jeep and laid it down gently in the back, opening the blanket and giving the baby a quick visual check. The umbilical cord was tied with a piece of string and the baby was still smeared in some vernix. ‘It’s practically a newborn,’ Philippe said, looking over her shoulder.
‘Do you have much experience with newborns?’ she asked.
He gave a little shrug. ‘I’ve delivered three babies in the ER.’
She zipped open a tiny pack, pulling out a tympanic thermometer, a collection of wipes, and a tiny finger probe. ‘Give me a hand,’ she said quickly.
The baby started to squirm. Lim stood back and let Philippe move forward. He pulled a pen torch from his back pocket—it was amazing the things you kept on you when you were a doctor—and leaned forward, doing a quick check of the baby’s pupils. They had no idea how this baby had been delivered, or if there had been any trauma. ‘Both pupils equal and reactive,’ he said, doing a manual APGAR score in his head. The skin colour was good, muscles reactive, the baby kicking as he examined it. He slipped on the finger probe and glanced at the screen for a reading. ‘Do you have a stethoscope?’ he asked Arissa. She smiled and pulled a bright pink stethoscope from her pocket.
‘Don’t you believe the monitor?’ she asked.
He smiled as he took the stethoscope. ‘I like to do things the old-fashioned way,’ he said. The monitor reading said a pulse of one-forty and an oxygen saturation of ninety-eight per cent. This baby was doing fine.
He listened for a few seconds, checking the lungs, making sure the baby hadn’t inhaled anything untoward during delivery, then listening to the heart, checking for any heart murmurs or any other abnormality. He hoped Arissa couldn’t see the beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. An abandoned baby, albeit in a safe place. This was bringing back so many memories for him—of a baby that wasn’t healthy and pink like this one.
The baby let out an angry yelp as he lifted the stethoscope away from its chest. He did one final check. ‘Well, she seems like a perfectly healthy little girl.’ He inadvertently tucked the stethoscope into his back pocket. ‘I just hope mum is doing so well.’ His stomach squirmed as he said those words.
Arissa turned her eyes to Lim, who gave them both a nod. ‘I’ll put the word out. You okay?’ he asked.
Arissa nodded as she wrapped the baby back up and put her to her shoulder. ‘I think we’ll be good. I’ll take her back to the hospital and get her admitted and fed.’
Lim unlocked the door to the fire and rescue station and came back out a few minutes later with a car seat in his hand. He nodded towards them both. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Will let you know if we hear anything.’
He climbed into his black car and disappeared into the distance. Philippe turned to Arissa, his mind whirling. He pointed to the red panel on the fire station. ‘What on earth is this?’
Arissa tossed her car keys towards him. ‘It’s a safe haven. We set it up last year. Someplace safe that a woman can leave her baby. No questions. No prosecutions. An alarm goes off as soon as the panel is opened.’ She shook her head as he frowned and looked above the panel. ‘Not at the station,’ she said and pointed to her belt. ‘To our pagers. There’s always a doctor and a member of the fire and rescue crew who have the pagers. One, or both of us, aim to get here within five minutes.’
Philippe was still surprised. ‘How many babies does this happen to?’ Why hadn’t he heard of this before?
This was exactly the kind of thing he needed to know about. Ideas were already forming in his head.