HAD BEEN aware of the sound for longer than she’d realised.
It wasn’t until Harriet Collins had finally reached the flat part of this cliff walk that her focus relaxed enough to acknowledge the sound.
A dog barking.
It had just been part of the background for what felt like a long time. A background that included the warmth of a late Australian spring day and the sound of waves rolling onto the rocky shore far below where she was now. Her concentration had been on more important things. Like the occasional uneven steps and rough stony patches on this clifftop walkway.
Like the pain in her leg that had reached an intolerable level a while back but hadn’t been allowed to do more than slow her down because Harriet needed to find out how far she could push it before it let her down completely and refused to keep her upright—as it had so many times over the long, long months of her rehabilitation so far.
Someone else must be walking this track, she decided, as she paused long enough to fish her water bottle from the mesh side pouch of her small backpack. She could feel other lumpy shapes inside the pack as she slotted the bottle back into place.
Exciting lumps. She had chosen this walk to try out her new camera for the first time. And that expensive zoom lens. When she found the right spot, she could wait until the sun was starting to set and hopefully capture some amazing shots of the waves crashing on those fearsome rocks at shore level. She had a headlamp tucked inside as well, which should make it safe enough for her to get back down the track to where she’d parked her car when daylight was fading.
It did seem odd, though, that this dog was being so vocal. And the sound wasn’t getting any fainter, which you would expect if an overexcited pet was running ahead of its person on a long walk. If anything, it was getting louder, as Harriet started walking again.
Her limp was more pronounced than it had been for some time but that was only to be expected after that long uphill stretch. The paracetamol she had swallowed along with that drink of water should kick in soon and, by the time she’d had a good rest while she took her photographs, she should be ready to tackle the return trip.
The barking got louder and Harriet stopped in her tracks when she saw the dark shape rushing towards her.
A beat of fear stopped her inward breath.
A dog attack? Really? After so many months of fighting to get her life approaching anything like normal, was she about to get sent back to square one by being mauled by a big dog? To be even more disfigured than she was already?
No way...
The sound that Harriet let out was a half-scream merged with an angry growl that expressed quite a lot about the struggle she’d been through and her desperation to not allow any new setbacks.
It seemed to work. The dog stopped in its tracks, too. And it stopped barking. It stared at Harriet.
Harriet stared back.
It was a black Labrador but not nearly as fat as most Labs she’d met. Maybe it got a lot of exercise running along these clifftop tracks with its owner.
Where was its owner? When he or she appeared, Harriet might have something to say about letting their dog run loose and frighten people. What if she’d had children with her?
The dog started barking again. It turned, ran a few steps and then stopped to look back at her. This time the barking felt like an attempt to communicate something.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Harriet muttered aloud. ‘You’ve seen too many Lassie movies.’
But it felt right to follow the dog. Cautiously, because it was taking her off this well-marked and relatively flat pathway. Through long grass and big boulders towards the edge of the cliff. The dog didn’t stop until it seemed to be standing on the very edge. It peered down the cliff and then turned back to Harriet. Its barking sounded more urgent now.
One step and then another brought Harriet nearer the dog.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
A tail wagged encouragement and the dog sat down as Harriet got within touching distance. It nudged her hand and licked her.
‘At least you’re friendly,’ she said. ‘What’s your name?’
There was a collar with a disc on it. ‘Harry? Are you kidding me? That’s my name.’
Harry the dog nudged her again and then stood up to peer over the edge again.
‘Okay...’ Harriet lay down, just to be safe, and inched forward.
It wasn’t a straight drop but it was steep enough to be dangerous with areas of loose scree amongst boulders and weathered shrubs that were clinging to life. At the point where the intermittent vegetation gave up, there was a drop onto a ledge. She couldn’t see the whole ledge but what she could see made a shiver run down her spine.
Legs.
And one of them was twisted at a very unnatural angle.
‘Hey...’ she yelled. ‘Can you hear me? Are you conscious?’
There was no answering call. No flicker of movement from the legs.
‘It’s okay,’ Harriet yelled again. ‘I’m going to call for help.’
She hauled her mobile phone out of the pocket of her cargo pants and then punched in the emergency three-digit number, giving a curt response of ‘Ambulance’ when she was asked what service she required.
‘I’m at the top of the Kookaburra walkway,’ she told the call taker in the communications centre. ‘There’s someone who’s fallen from the cliff. He’s on a ledge about a hundred metres from the top and...and he’s not responding to calls. I can see from here that he’s probably got a badly fractured leg.’
‘No...’ she said a minute later. ‘There’s no access from the top unless it’s by abseiling. I think we’re going to need a helicopter.’ She listened for a few seconds and then interrupted the young woman she was speaking to.
‘Look...my name is Harriet Collins. I’m an intensive care nurse at Bondi Bayside Hospital but I’m also a member of the Specialist Disaster Response team based there.’
It wasn’t exactly true. Not now... But they hadn’t yet officially removed her from the membership list, had they?
‘I know what I’m talking about, okay? We need a helicopter. This is a winch job. Anything else is going to take too long.’
And that was that. Help was on its way and there was nothing more that Harriet could do other than sit and wait and maybe signal the helicopter crew when they got close.
Harry the dog didn’t think so. He nudged her elbow and his whine was an easily interpreted plea.
Harriet peered over the edge of the cliff again.
The dog walker had trainers on his feet. And socks. And...yes...the foot on the leg that looked normal was moving.
‘Hey...’ Harriet could hear the alarm bell going off in her head. She yelled even louder this time. ‘Don’t move, okay? You’re safe where you are and help’s coming. But...just don’t move...’
If he’d been unconscious, he might have a head injury and not be thinking clearly. What if he managed to drag himself right off that ledge? There’d be no chance of survival if he finished the drop to where the surf was roiling around those black, jagged rocks.
Had she been wrong in saying that ledge was a hundred metres from the top of the cliff? It looked more like fifty at second guess. And maybe it wouldn’t have needed abseilers to get down. There were enough protruding rocks to provide good footholds and those scrappy little trees would give handholds for balance if you didn’t trust them with your whole body weight.
It didn’t need another nudge from Harry the dog to trigger Harriet’s