Page 85 of The London Girls
‘I just don’t want to go pulling her and losing half her body on the way out.’
Florence launched forward and retched at Jack’s words, unable to help the bile that rose inside her just thinking about her friend that way. It was the first time one of the people they’d fought to save wasn’t a stranger.
Florence dropped low and wriggled forward, past Olivia, the space so small that her cheek was pressed hard to the road, scraping her skin. Her hands and elbows felt like they were bleeding asshe dragged herself, the smell of fuel becoming overwhelming the further she got under the lorry.
But she was certain there was no part of Olivia impaled, although the space was so tight over her friend’s hips and lower legs, she wondered how they’d ever move her. As she wiggled back, trying not to panic about how tight the space was as she fought to get out, Jack called out to her.
‘You all right?’
‘Coming out now!’ she called, finally emerging to find the group of firemen all positioned around the lorry.
‘We’re going to try lifting, and even if we can move it just half an inch, it’ll be better than nothing.’
Florence waited, tears streaming down her cheeks as she listened to them heave, ready to cradle Olivia in her arms once they pulled her out. But when Jack did pull, the cry that emanated from Olivia was so primal that Florence knew it was worse than she’d imagined.
Florence leapt up to help carry Olivia a few paces away, well clear of the lorry and the road, and she sat with her in her arms as Jack stood, staring down at her friend’s beautiful face, her lips parted now as if every breath was an ordeal. Florence pushed open Olivia’s torn jacket slightly to see whether she had any obvious injuries and gasped at what she saw, at the blood seeping out of her middle region.
‘Jack, we need morphine,’ she said, glancing up at him and indicating for him to look.
When he did, his eyes said it all.
Olivia was dying, and it wouldn’t matter how fast they drove or what they did, Florence was almost certain there was nothing they could do.
She clenched her teeth together so hard she felt they were going to break, the pain inside her overwhelming, but she refused to cry.Her friend was dying, and that meant she had to be strong for her in these last moments, to show her compassion and love as selflessly as she was able.
Olivia’s lips were still moving, trying to say something, and Florence bent low over her, ear close to her mouth.
‘Take,’ she gurgled. ‘Message.’
Florence sat up straight, suddenly understanding the word her friend had been saying over and over again.
‘The memo!’ she said, and Olivia blinked slowly up at her, as if trying to tell her she was right.
Of course, she needed Olivia’s bag; it would have the memo in it that she was supposed to deliver, and Florence knew from what little she’d been told at the training day that the dispatch riders were told to protect their satchels with their lives. Olivia obviously hadn’t made the delivery yet.
‘I’ll find it, don’t you worry. I’ll make sure to get your satchel for you. I’ll get your memo.’
Jack came lumbering back then, with a blanket that he carefully wrapped around Olivia and a vial of morphine, which he passed to Florence to administer.
‘I know it doesn’t look good, but I don’t think you’ll ever forgive yourself if we don’t at least try to get her to hospital,’ Jack said, looking as terrible as she felt, dark smudges under his eyes showing how tired he was.
Florence nodded. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Let’s get her loaded into the ambulance. Can you drive?’ She didn’t want to leave Olivia for so much as a second.
She watched as Jack glanced down at his leg, but he nodded anyway. ‘I’ll drive.’
‘That morphine should start working soon, Liv,’ she whispered to her friend, brushing a kiss across her forehead before helping Jack to lift her.
She steeled herself against Olivia’s cry, but once they had her settled, she never made another sound, which was even worse.
‘I have to find her bag, just give me a second,’ Florence said to Jack, running as fast as she could back to the lorry and peering under it, ignoring the firemen telling her it was too dangerous. ‘There you are,’ she muttered when she finally saw it, reaching out and tugging it free. The strap was broken but it was still safely buckled up, and she ran back to the ambulance and got in beside Olivia, seeing that Jack had bandaged around her friend’s middle in her absence.
She tucked the blanket around her, feeling for a pulse, reassuring herself that Olivia was still alive. It was a long drive to the hospital, but Jack was right; if they didn’t try, she’d always wonder if there was something she could have done to save her.
‘Everything’s going to be fine,’ she whispered. ‘We’re going to set up that school, Liv, we’re going to care for those children. Don’t you give up on me.’
But even as she said the words, she knew she was lying. They’d need nothing short of a miracle for Olivia to survive the night.
The drive to the hospital seemed to take all day, but the moment they got there it was a blur of nurses and doctors, stretchers and calls for help. Within minutes of Jack hurrying inside and begging for assistance, Olivia was being taken away from them and hurried into surgery, and Florence was left clutching her friend’s satchel, which was stained with Olivia’s blood.
