Vivi finally fell into bed about three o’clock, but was unable to sleep and instead lay staring at the ceiling, remembering once more what had happened to her in Paris. Would she ever feel all right about it? As the memory of Yvette’s laughing eyes swam before her, she still felt such anger towards the enemy that had stolen people she cared about from her. And it was hard to think that the home she had been a part of was not full of the people she loved. Monsieur Renoir sitting in the corner of his room poring over a book she had managed to find him, and from the kitchen, the sounds and smells of Maman creating something magical out of their rations. Tears stung her eyes again as she felt so much sadness for them all.
Vivi barely slept that night and was awoken with a jolt the next morning with someone banging on her door. As she peered at her clock she realised she’d slept in through the start of her shift. Bleary-eyed, grabbing her dressing gown, she opened the door. It was the matron.
‘Oh good, you’re up, Vivi.’
‘I was working in the middle of the night.’
The matron stopped her with a raised hand. ‘I know all about it. There’s no need for you to explain. We didn’t expect you on the ward this morning, but we do need you, nevertheless, as our French patient is starting to stir. Can you get dressed as quickly as possible and go to his room, see if you can get any more information from him?’
Vivi nodded. Feeling exhausted, she closed the door and made her way into the bathroom to get ready. Putting on her uniform, she contemplated what it’d be like to have someone here from France. Maybe it would help her make amends somehow?
Arriving at the room, she moved inside, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, though even from the doorway she could see his own were closed, his breathing was laboured and his blond hair was draped across his pillow. His chest was bandaged, as was the wound on his head, and the broken leg had been set. As she approached his bed, he groaned and very slowly he opened his eyes. Vivi caught her breath, noticing they were of the deepest blue as he attempted to focus on her.
‘My name is Vivienne Hamilton, Vivi,’ she said in French, placing a hand on his arm to reassure him. ‘I speak French and will be here to attend to you.’
Slowly, he nodded.
‘Your plane came down in the water, but it wasn’t recovered. Was anyone else with you, can you remember?’
He looked at her blankly for a moment, then shook his head. She wasn’t sure if he was saying there was no one else or that he didn’t recall.
He opened his mouth and whispered one word, ‘Où?’
‘You are in a hospital in Cornwall, England and are safe here. Now, I need to examine you.’
He nodded again, his eyes following her as she approached the bed to look at his chart to review her morning duties. Moving about the room, she drew out her stethoscope. As she gingerly pulled aside his hospital pyjamas, she noticed once again that his chest was firm and muscular. As he watched her intently, and she drew close to him to listen to his heart, she had that feeling again, that pull that drew her to him as if she knew him or had always known him. Vivi tried to shake off the odd sensation so she could do her job.
Placing the stethoscope on his chest, she noted his heartbeat was a little weak, but the rhythm was good. As she moved over to get her blood-pressure gauge, his voice reached out to her.
‘Mademoiselle?’ His tone was deep and measured.
‘Vivi,’ she reminded him.
‘Vivi,’ he corrected himself, then with what seemed like a great deal of effort, he whispered, ‘Merci.’
‘It’s my job,’ she informed him, trying to sound businesslike. But for some reason, at the sound of his voice, her heart was pounding and she was starting to feel hot. Maybe the nursery needed a little ventilation, she mused.
Walking to open a small window, she took a deep breath. Then, she took medication that had been prescribed for him from the bottle, something for the pain she was sure he was in, even though he seemed very calm.