Page 29 of The Dark of the Moon
‘Eveline,’ she said. ‘Dzieki Bogu!Thank God! We thought we’d lost you.’
She lifted my head and held a glass of water to my lips. I drank thirstily. My tongue felt too big for my mouth, and my voice cracked as I tried to find the words, fragments of memory returning ...
‘The plane crashed.’
She nodded.
‘Need to hide it from the enemy ...’
‘Hush,’ she said. ‘It’s been taken care of.’
‘The pilot . . . ?’
She shook her head. ‘He didn’t make it. I’m sorry.’
‘There was an envelope ...’ I said. Panic filled me as I remembered the money and papers for the Poles’ escape. I struggled to try to sit up, but she pressed gently on my shoulder, making me lie still.
She smiled. ‘Don’t worry, we have it safe. Thank you for bringing it for us. Here, try to drink a little more.’
Something felt wrong. I frowned, concentrating. Everything ached. But there was a deeper, more intense pain somewhere, too.
‘My leg . . .’ I said.
‘Hush,’ she said again, gently wiping my face with a cool cloth. ‘You were badly hurt in the crash. But we are taking care of you now. Try to sleep again. I am here. You are safe.’
The next time I swam upwards through the layers of sleep and troubled dreams, it must have been night-time. The room was dark and silent, the air thick with the smell of some sort of disinfectant. With an effort, I turned my head. Janina’s husband, Jakub, appeared to be asleep in a chair beside the bed but he must have sensed my movement because he opened his eyes and smiled. ‘Here,’ he said, leaning forward to pour water from a jug into a glass and hold it to my lips. ‘Drink a little.’
‘Janina ...?’ I asked once I’d swallowed a few sips and my tongue could work again.
‘I’m doing the night shift so she can get some sleep.’
‘The baby . . . ?’
‘Is growing well. Kicking now. Going to be a strong one, like itsmatka.’
I licked my lips and swallowed, with an effort, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘Four days. You were badly injured in the crash, scarcely alive when themaquisardsbrought you here. We need to get you out as soon as you’re strong enough, so you can get proper treatment. We’ve sent a message back to Britain. But you’re too sick to travel at the moment. In any case, the moon is dying now, so it will be at least two weeks. They will come and get you as soon as they can.’
I felt there was something important I needed to tell him, something urgent. But my brain felt muddled, and I struggled to remember what it was. Then it came back to me. A wave of dizziness engulfed me as I tried to sit up, forcing me to fall back against the pillow. ‘Jakub, you all need to get out of France now. Go immediately. That was what they sent me to tell you. To give you the papers you’ll need and to tell you to go to Spain. The Germans will take control of the whole of France any day. It will be too dangerous for you all to stay here.’
He smiled again, a little sadly. ‘This we already know,’ he said. ‘We hear the messages, can tell they are growing uneasy. But our French hosts continue to look after us and our work here is important. We cannot leave just yet.’
‘We will take care of you in Britain. If you can get across the border into Spain, we’ll get you out. It will be so much safer for all of you there. Think of your baby, Jakub!’
He nodded. ‘We will go soon, don’t worry. But for now we need to stay and keep on telling the Allies what is happening in the east. And we won’t desert you.’
I began to protest again but he hushed me. ‘Calm yourself, Eveline. I promise we will go soon. We’ll talk to Bolek, because we’ll need his help to get through France to the mountains. We have a little more time, I think. Once the British can come for you, then we will leave.’
When Jakub went off to refill the water jug, I gingerly raised my throbbing head from the pillow and lifted the sheet that covered my battered body. My right leg was swathed in bandages from ankle to thigh and around the shin a dark bloodstain oozed through the thick layers of wrapping. Another wave of weakness forced me to lie back again. I couldn’t go anywhere even if I tried. I had to accept I was stuck there for at least the next couple of weeks.
The days passed slowly. I drifted in and out of sleep and Janina was there when I woke, trying to encourage me to drink the nourishing broth she’d made, or helping me clean myself with a bowl of water and a washcloth. I think the priest was there once or twice, holding my hand, praying at my bedside, although my mind was so muddled I wasn’t sure if perhaps I dreamed that. A French doctor came to change the dressings on my leg. His visits were usually followed by muttered conversations with Janina, which I couldn’t hear. They cared for me attentively, but I found it frustrating that I wasn’t getting better any faster. I’d already been enough of a burden to my hosts. I wanted to be ready to walk to the lavender field and climb the ladder into the Lysander that would come for me as soon as the moon grew to fullness. But the pain and the weakness were ever present and so I swallowed down the pills the doctor gave me with gratitude, sinking back into the release of sleep.
I must have been there for about a week, existing in that limbo, drifting in and out of consciousness. But then something changed.
Amy appeared to me in a dream again, standing in that same clearing in a forest. But this time, instead of turning away, she smiled at me in the moonlight and beckoned me to follow her. I took a faltering step towards the trees, then another, unsure whethermy injured leg could carry me. It hurt. But, somehow, I understood that if I followed Amy the pain would end ...
All at once, Janina was shaking me awake, saying, ‘Eveline! Eveline, wake up!’ and the doctor was in the room. My body was burning with fever, but my fingers and toes felt icy cold. Janina held my hand while the doctor removed the bandages from my leg. A sickly stench filled the room, and I realised it came from my wounds. I watched Janina’s face, saw her blanch. The doctor frowned. He said something to her and at first I thought he must be referring to the seven days that remained before I could be evacuated. But then he said the word again: ‘Septicémie...’ My fever-muddled brain struggled to decode it. And then I understood. Sepsis had set in.
