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almost daily event, they would practically be guaranteed a chance to witness and, if at all possible, practise the life-saving skill.
    And Flynn held them in the palm of his hand,explaining that what they learnt today and in their weeks in Emergency might never be needed in their entire career, depending upon their chosen field. ‘But…’ He paused, those expressive grey eyes working the room, ensuring he had everyone’s attention. ‘Statistically speaking—and I’m not talking about while you’re at work; I’m talking about when you’re at the library or doing the groceries, or dropping a video off at the shop—somewhere in the future, someone in this room will utilise this skill, possibly on a stranger, but maybe on someone you love. And you, as nurses, have a chance of doing it right; have a chance of saving a life. Pretty exciting, huh?’
    He grinned at the rapt faces. ‘So how about a practice?’
    ‘We can’t. Annie’s still being repaired.’ Meg pointed out again.
    ‘Good.’ Flynn grinned. ‘Then we’ll practise on a human—far more realistic than a doll, don’t you think? Come on, Meg.’
    She hesitated—and for more than a brief moment. Had it been Dr Campbell or Jess—anyone, in fact— Meg would have leapt up on the trolley without a second thought. After all, in her six months here she had been strapped to the ECG machine, been plastered, even had blood taken all in the name of practice. It was part and parcel of the job. But it wasn’t Dr Campbell asking her, it was Flynn Kelsey, and lying on the trolley pretending to be a mannequin… Well, suffice it to say there was nothing remotely mannequin-like about the butterflies flying around in her stomach.
    ‘Come on, Meg,’ Flynn said impatiently. ‘Unless you need a refresher course as well?’
    Reminding herself she did this sort of thing all the time, Meg climbed on the trolley and lay back against the pillow, wishing her beastly blush would fade.
    ‘Now, this patient looks well, as you can see. Her colour’s excellent—quite pink, actually.’ Meg was tempted to take a swipe at him as their audience started laughing. ‘But don’t be fooled. High colour in an unresponsive patient could be an indication of any number of things. Any ideas?’
    ‘Carbon monoxide poisoning?’ Carla said, and Meg made a mental note to praise her later.
    ‘Excellent,’ Flynn said warmly. ‘Flats with old heaters, suicide attempts, house fires—all these can cause carbon monoxide poising. The patient might look pink and healthy but in reality they’re exactly the opposite. Okay, so we’ve dragged this poor woman out of her flat, she’s as red as a beetroot and completely unresponsive—so what now?’
    ‘Check her airway,’ a couple of the students called out.
    ‘Good start.’ She could feel his fingers on her jaw—firm, warm fingers, Meg noted, squeezing her eyes closed and desperately attempting to relax her face as he gently pulled her chin down. ‘Yep, airway’s clear. If it wasn’t, here in resus obviously I’d use suction. Out on the street it would be with more basic means.’ He held up a finger and the students groaned. ‘Now what?’
    ‘Check her pulse.’
    ‘She can have the strongest pulse in medicalhistory,’ Flynn replied quickly, ‘but if she’s not breathing what is her heart pumping? Certainly not oxygenated blood. Come on, guys—ABC, remember? We’re heading into danger time here; this long without oxygen and you’re starting to look at brain damage. Okay—A for airway, B for breathing. Watch her chest to see if it’s moving.’
    Meg felt ten pairs of eyes on her chest and wondered if he expected her to hold her breath to make things more realistic. A distinct impossibility as suddenly her breath was coming out in short, rapid bursts.
    ‘So, she’s not breathing and I’m feeling for a pulse—which…’ Meg heard the tiniest hint of a laugh in his voice as he placed his fingers on her neck and felt her