Dragan frowned. Luka was one of the stablehands, who lived in a caravan tucked away in a quiet corner of the stable grounds. George Smith, Melinda’s boss, had always said that Luka was brilliant with horses and he’d give him a job like a shot. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘He says he’s just got a virus, that’s why he’s got a sore throat and a bit of a temperature. But I’m not so sure. He caught himself on some barbed wire last week. He says I’m fussing, but he just doesn’t look right and nobody else has come down with a sore throat and a temperature. I think it might be blood poisoning or something because he wouldn’t let me treat his hand last week either.’ She sighed. ‘I know, it’s awful of me to call you out for a cut hand—but you know what Luka’s like.’
Along with the rest of his family—Romany travellers—Luka Zingari was incredibly suspicious of the medical profession. And out of all of the doctors at the Penhally practice, Dragan knew that he was the one they were most likely to respond to: the stranger in a strange land, like them. ‘I’ll have a word with him,’ he promised.
‘I’ll take you over.’
Was this just a concerned employer worrying about her stablehand? Dragan wondered. Had Georgina’s father called him, it would be more a case of an employer worrying about being sued—Malcolm Somers was very much of the old school and believed in paying his staff as little as possible for the maximum amount of work. Malcolm had finally handed over the running of the stables to his only child the previous year—although he interfered all the time, according to Melinda.
Something about Georgina’s expression alerted Dragan. It wasn’t the face of a concerned employer. It was more like a girlfriend who was worried sick.
Were Georgina and Luka…?
He chided himself even for thinking it. Who was he to speculate? Especially as the press were speculating about him and Melinda. He should know better. It was none of his business. But it would explain a lot.
Georgina rapped on the caravan door. ‘Luka? It’s me. Can I come in?’
There was a muttered croak from inside the caravan, and she opened the door. ‘I know you said not to fuss, but Dr Lovak’s here. He was calling on Mum…’ her quick glance pleaded with Dragan not to expose the lie ‘…and when I told him you’d been ill he asked if he could drop in.’
‘I don’t need a doctor. She’s fussing,’ Luka said.
But the sardonic grin on his face worried Dragan. Luka was a typically handsome gipsy—again according to Melinda, half the girls in the village fancied him—and that grin definitely wasn’t his normal expression.
An alarm bell rang in his mind. Luka worked at the stables. He’d cut his hand on barbed wire. If Luka’s tetanus vaccinations weren’t up to date, that could be a pretty nasty combination. ‘So how are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘It’s just a virus. Sore throat, headache, bit of a temperature. It’ll go.’
‘But you’re having problems swallowing.’
‘Only because of my sore throat.’
‘Then you won’t mind me checking your pulse, will you?’ Before Luka could protest, Dragan checked the pulse at his wrist. ‘Your heartbeat’s pretty rapid.’
‘Because I’ve got a bug.’ Luka rolled his eyes. ‘Georgie’s fussing.’
‘Have you had any pains in your arms or legs or stomach?’
‘It’s just a bug.’
Dragan knew Luka was going to evade any other questions along that line, so he changed tack. ‘How’s that hand you hurt the other week?’
‘Fine.’
‘Can I take a look?’
Luka looked at Georgina, sighed, then held out his left hand. Dragan gently unwrapped the slightly grubby bandage. ‘Have you put anything on this?’
‘It’ll heal.’
Dragan raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, I reckon you’ve got a bug all right.’
‘See?’ Luka glanced at Georgina. ‘I told you it was all right.’
‘Actually, it’s not. You haven’t got flu. It’s a bacteriim called Clostridium tetani,’ Dragan said.
‘Oh, lord. You mean he’s got tetanus?’ Georgina looked shocked.
‘When was the last time you had a tetanus vaccination?’ Dragan asked Luka.
‘No idea. I don’t like needles,’ Luka admitted.
‘Most people don’t. But it’s not worth taking the risk of skipping a vaccination, especially with what you do for a living. Stables are one of the most common places to find Clostridium tetani.’ Dragan looked at him grimly. ‘Get a puncture wound from a nail—or in your case have an argument with some barbed wire—and then muck out a stable, and the bacterium’s just found its dinner.’
‘So what does tetanus do—if I have it?’
Lord, the man was stubborn. Even more so than Melinda.
‘It’s a disorder of the nervous system. It gives you muscle cramps—and that sometimes makes it hard to open your mouth, which is why tetanus is also known as lockjaw. In the early stages, you might get muscle spasms around the site of the infection—but when it hits the bloodstream it tends to affect your facial muscles,’ Dragan explained.
‘So when the bug’s out of my system I’ll be fine.’
‘That’s the thing,’ Dragan said softly. ‘If you don’t treat it, you’re pretty likely to die.’
Luka blinked. ‘You what?’
‘You’re likely to die,’ Dragan repeated. ‘And it’s not a nice way to go. You can’t breathe properly, your muscles go into spasm and you suffocate. Or maybe the next muscle to go into spasm is your heart—it stops, and that’s it. We probably won’t get you back because your heart muscle won’t respond to being shocked. Then there are your kidneys, there’s the possibility of septicaemia…So you need treatment, Luka.’
‘You don’t know I’ve definitely got tetanus.’
Dragan had met Luka before and knew the man wasn’t being awkward just to be macho—the chances were that Luka was terrified of hospitals, and denying that anything was wrong with him meant he wouldn’t have to even consider the idea of going near one.
Georgina clearly thought the same, because she begged, ‘Make him see sense, Dr Lovak. Luka, if I lose you…’
Luka’s right hand reached out to grip hers. ‘You’re not going to lose me.’
‘Then you need treatment, Luka,’ Dragan said softly. ‘You need to go to hospital. For Georgina’s sake, if not your own.’
Luka shook his head. ‘I’m not going in an ambulance. They’re meat vans.’
‘You don’t have to go in an ambulance. I’ll take you myself,’ Dragan offered.
‘I hate hospitals.’
‘So do a lot of people. But you’ve got a three in five chance of dying if you don’t have treatment.’
‘Which gives me a two in five chance of being fine. Forty per cent’s reasonable odds,’ Luka said.
Dragan shook his head. ‘This is going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better. If it gets better.’
‘What does the treatment involve?’ Georgina asked.
‘I’m not going to lie about it. It involves needles. But you’ll need some antibodies