She looked over her shoulder. ‘How much further?’
‘Keep your eyes straight ahead, please.’
Her anxiety was building. She wanted to get down. She wanted to help those kids. But she needed to get down there in one piece.
‘Who is Callum? Is it Callum Kennedy?’
The firefighter’s eyes gave a spark of amusement. ‘Know him, do you?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not entirely sure. I think so. I went to school with a Callum Kennedy, but I didn’t get a good look at him before he went over the edge.’ She shrugged her shoulders, ‘I’m not even sure he would recognise me now.’
The firefighter gave her a little smile, ‘Oh, I’m sure he would.’
‘What does he do exactly?’
‘He’s the head of the rope rescue unit. He’ll be in charge down here.’ They were inching closer and closer to the bottom.
‘And is he any good?’ She bit her lip. It might seem a little cheeky, but Stan had already mentioned he could be crabbit. She needed to know that he wouldn’t get in her way. That he wouldn’t stop her doing her job with these kids.
‘Put it this way—if me or my kids were stuck anywhere that a rope rescue was needed?’ He lifted his eyes skyward. ‘I would be praying to the man upstairs that Callum would be on duty that night. He’s the safest pair of hands we’ve got—particularly near kids.’ He caught her around the waist. ‘That’s us. Let me just unhook you from this line—but we’ll leave your harness on. You’ll need it to get back up and they’ll hook you up to another one if you’re near the water.’
‘Where’s the doc?’ came the shout.
Jess swivelled around, looking for her bag. ‘I’m here. I’m coming.’
Several of the firefighters were forming a line, passing two little kids along to the edge of the bank. Jackie appeared at her side. ‘Let’s go.’
They reached the kids just as they were placed on warm blankets on the ground. Jess worked quickly, gently feeling over their little bodies for signs of injuries as she spoke to them in a quiet voice.
‘Need some help?’
She nodded at the firefighter next to her. ‘Heat them up. There are no obvious injuries. But they’re in shock.’ She turned back to the minibus. Now she was closer she could see every dent, every bash, every hole in the metalwork.
It made the chill seem even worse. ‘Are these the first two?’
The man next to her nodded. ‘Do we have a number yet? How many kids are injured?’
‘Twelve. That’s the figure we have for the moment. Just awaiting confirmation.’
She moved over to the side of the slippery river’s edge as an adult was passed along and dealt with by the paramedics. She could see the hive of activity going on within the bus, hear the whimpering cries of the children.
‘Can I get over there? Do you need me to get into the bus?’ Her anxiety was building. She couldn’t stand here and do nothing. It just wasn’t in her nature. She needed to be at the heart of the action. It was her job to prioritise, triage and treat the sickest kids. She needed to be next to those children.
Her voice must have carried in the cold air, because a head whipped up from the bus. The man was lying across the windows, reaching down to grasp a squirming child, and his eyes connected with hers.
‘Stay exactly where you are.’
Callum. Callum Kennedy. Absolutely no mistake.
She saw him flinch visibly as his brain made the connection of who was standing on the riverbank.
He’d recognised her? After all these years?
The cold hard air hit her lungs. She must have sucked in a bigger breath than normal. Her skin prickled.
How did she feel about seeing Callum Kennedy thirteen years on?
Unprepared.
Like a seventeen-year-old again, standing in a dark nightclub and willing herself not to cry as they broke up. It had been the right decision. The sensible decision. They had both been going to university, she in Glasgow and he—after a wait of a few years—in Aberdeen. Their relationship would never have worked out. It had been best for them both.
It just hadn’t felt that way.
She pushed her feet more firmly into the ground, trying to focus her attention. Callum’s gaze hadn’t moved. It was still fixed on her face.
She could feel the colour start to rise in her cheeks. It was unnerving. But why the flinch? Was she really such an unwelcome sight after all this time?
Or maybe she was imagining this—maybe he’d no idea who she was at all.
Callum couldn’t believe it. He was holding a child firmly by the waist, while a colleague released him from his seat belt.
But Callum’s eyes were fixed on the flyaway caramel-coloured hair on the riverbank. Running up and down the thin frame that was in no way hidden by the bright green jumpsuit.
A sight he hadn’t seen in thirteen years.
A lifetime ago.
His childhood sweetheart, here on the banks of the Clyde, at the scene of an accident.
He’d always wondered if he’d come across her sometime, some place.
As a firefighter he’d been in and out of most of the A and E departments in the city. But in all these years he’d never glimpsed her, never seen her name on any board.
He knew that Jessica had gone to university to do her medical training, but had no idea where she’d ended up, or which field she’d specialised in.
And now he knew. She was somewhere here in Glasgow, specialising in paediatrics. Why else would she be here?
Would she even remember him? It looked as though she had—even though he’d filled out considerably since the last time they’d met. She, on the other hand, looked as if she’d faded away to a wisp.
Although he could see her slight frame, the most visible changes were around her facial features and structure. And it wouldn’t have mattered how many clothes she was bundled up in, he would have noticed at twenty paces.
It struck him as strange. The young Jessica he remembered had had an attention-grabbing figure and a personality to match. Every memory he had of her was a happy one. And for a second he felt as if they could all come flooding back.
There was a tug at his arms, followed by a sensation of relief and a lightening of the weight in his arms. He pulled upwards automatically. The little guy’s seat belt had been released.
He pulled him up and held him to his chest, capturing the little body with his own, holding him close to let a little heat envelop the shivering form. The little boy wasn’t even crying any more. He was just too cold.
He held the boy for a few seconds longer. He looked around four, just a year younger than his own son Drew. He couldn’t help the automatic paternal shiver that stole down his spine at the thought of something like this happening to his son. It didn’t even bear thinking about.
His only relief right now was that he hadn’t signed a consent form for the school to go on any trips this week, meaning that his little Drew was safely tucked up inside the primary school building.
The temperature in the minibus was freezing, with water halfway up its side-on frame. They were going to have to move quicker to get these kids out in time.
‘Callum! Callum! Pass him over, please.’
Oh,