Page 44 of Prognosis Bad Timing

That she’d be OK.

Carrie took a deep breath and took a hesitant step towards the frightened girl, giving her a reassuring smile. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Why don’t we go in there?’ She pointed behind her to the treatment room. ‘Then I’ll clean up your face.’

The girl swung her gaze from Charlie to Carrie. ‘I tried to stop him.’

‘I know,’ Carrie said gently, holding out her hand. ‘Come on, you’re safe now.’

The girl looked at Carrie’s hand and then back at Charlie and then back at Carrie. ‘I don’t want him,’ she said to Carrie, pointing at Charlie.

Carrie flicked a glance at Charlie thinking I do. At the moment she wanted his back-up and support more than anything. ‘Yep, I promise. Just you and me.’

The girl wavered for a moment and then nodded, walking warily towards Carrie. Carrie put her arm around the girl’s shoulders and felt her flinch slightly. ‘It’s okay. Come on, not far.’ She led the girl to the treatment room, helped her up onto the examination table and turned to shut the door.

‘Find her some clothes,’ she said to Charlie, who was hovering outside.

He nodded. ‘I’ll get you a plastic sheet for the floor, make sure she’s on that when she removes her clothes,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. ‘Get her to discard them on the sheet then leave it aside for the police. They’ll need it for evidence. Wear gloves. I’ll get a counsellor from the rape crisis centre over and call the police.’

Carrie nodded and shut the door. She took a deep breath before she turned around to face the girl again. She’d had no experience with sexual assault victims.

Opening some cupboards against the far wall, she looked for a dressing pack of some description to clean the girl’s cut lip. It also gave her time to think of how she was going to deal with the situation.

To say she felt out of her depth was an understatement.

Carrie found what she needed and fussed over opening the pack and pouring some antiseptic liquid into one of the plastic pots. She placed it on the trolley and pushed it over, dragging the mobile stool as she went.

‘What’s your name?’ Carrie asked as she sat, the long-forgotten clinician inside her assessing the girl’s battered face.

‘R-Roberta,’ she said, her arms crossed across her torn T-shirt.

‘Hi, Roberta.’ Carrie reached down and pulled some gloves out of a box on the bottom of the trolley. ‘Would you like to get out of those clothes?’

Roberta looked down at her tattered and bloodied clothes and nodded her head.

‘I’ll have to bag them for the police, is that OK?’

Roberta recoiled. ‘The police?’

‘Yes,” Carrie said, nodding with a gentle smile. ‘You do want this man caught, don’t you?’

Carrie saw a host of emotions flit across Roberta’s broken face and feared that the girl was about to burst into tears. Then a hardness entered her eyes and her jaw clenched. ‘I want him to rot in a jail cell for ever.’

There was a quiet knock at the door and Roberta startled clutching at Carrie’s arm. Carrie covered Roberta’s hand with hers. ‘It’s OK. It’ll be Charlie with some new clothes.’

Roberta’s grip eased and she nodded. Carrie rose and opened the door. ‘Thanks,’ she said to Charlie, accepting the bundle he gave her.

‘How’s it going?’

‘OK...I think.’

Charlie nodded. ‘The counsellor and the cops should be here soon.’

‘Thanks.’ Carrie closed the door and went back to tend to Roberta.

Roberta winced as Carrie touched some gauze to her shattered lip. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured.

‘Bastard punched me in the face. Twice. What gave him the right to do this?’ Roberta demanded, in a shaky voice. ‘Because I’m a hooker? I told him I was off duty but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

Roberta started to cry and Carrie felt helpless. Anger and revulsion raged inside her at the ordeal this girl had been through.

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