closet. She pulled her hair back into a bun and adjusted her nurse’s cap as she walked to the observation room.
She was amazed to find it bustling. Whenever patients came in, they were assessed in an area that in a former time had been the butler’s pantry, before being taken to the ward. Normally at this time of night there would just be a doctor and a nurse or two, but Vivi was surprised to see the tiny room was filled with people. Three policemen, two members of the Home Guard, two doctors who had started working on the patient, and another nurse.
‘Oh good, they’ve found you, Vivi,’ commented one of the doctors. ‘We know you speak good French, is that correct? We have reason to believe by the papers in this man’s pockets that he may be from France.’ The doctor pointed to soaked documents drying on a table next to him.
Vivi looked down at the patient and something stirred within her, as though she’d known him or had seen him before but she couldn’t recollect where. His body was still limp as they started to remove his clothing so they could see the extent of his injuries. She noticed his body was strong and athletic, his leg looked broken, and there was a severe cut to his forehead which one of the doctors was already attending. His damp blond hair was layered across it and his brow was lightly spattered with his own blood.
Vivi was mesmerised, caught by the angelic expression on his face that made him appear as though he were trapped somewhere between this and the next world. He had a strong chin and his face had a boyish quality to it even though it was grey and his breathing was shallow.
He was French, Vivi thought with a jolt, and again her mind returned to Paris. Part of her wanted to run from the room and never speak that language again and she started to tremble, but part of her was also captivated by this person.
When she didn’t answer the doctor, he turned to her again. ‘Is that correct, Vivi? You speak French?’
Vivi quickly nodded as she was jarred back into the present moment.
‘We might need you here just in case we can get him conscious.’
‘I’m amazed he survived in the water,’ she whispered as she continued to help the other nurse take off the rest of his sodden clothes.
‘Yes, fortunately someone called us,’ stated the local constable. He eyed her with the acknowledgement that she’d been the one who made the call but he obviously didn’t want to get her into trouble with the Home Guard about being out at the beach.
‘But I don’t understand why there was a French plane this far over, all the way over here in Cornwall?’ she commented, trying to make sense of it.
‘I know, it’s a little bit of a mystery,’ the constable continued as he stared down at information he had written in a small notebook. ‘But the plane hasn’t yet been recovered. It must have hit the water at such a speed that it broke up. We believe this man was a passenger. So we’re out looking for the pilot and any debris now.’
The man mumbled in his sleep as she started to remove his boots and straight away Vivi could see why. He also had a deep wound to the leg that was broken. She mentioned it to one of the doctors, and he came to assist her.
They continued to work through the night, and as soon as the patient was stabilised, his wounds were sewn up. Unconscious, he was taken to a quiet room in the house, away from the main ward, one that was kept set aside for infectious diseases and which would now act as the man’s hospital room until he was conscious, so he could be observed.
Stripping back the stark white sheets and grey woollen army blankets, together she and Marion placed him into the bed. Once they had him settled, Vivi looked around. This was a cheery room and had been her playroom as a child. How odd to think that patients now stayed in here. Again, she studied the man’s face, and though it was Marion’s job to monitor him through the night, she felt a pull again, something she couldn’t explain, a desire to be close to him. Vivi shook the thought from her mind. She was tired and he was French, that was all. His presence just brought