“You’ve never had a patient from Jersey.” Ivy sat in a chair at Charlie’s bedside, wearing a similar outfit, loaned to her by the nursing sisters—no,nursesin American English.
“Only four ounces of meat a week, you said?” Norma’s eyes stretched wide.
“Every other week.” Charlie sipped more beef broth. “In meatless weeks, we have two ounces of butter.”
“But only when meat and butter are available.” For the first time in four years, Ivy’s stomach felt full.
“Wait till I tell the folks back home, grumbling about twenty-eight ounces a week,” Norma said.
Charlie took a large spoonful of broth.
“Do be careful,” Ivy said. “You aren’t used to rich food, and you’ve been very sick.”
“Not anymore.” Charlie glanced up to the glass bottle hanging by his bed. “The BBC said this new penicillin was a wonder drug. They were correct.”
“No kidding.” Norma adjusted the rubber tubing that poured the medicine into Charlie’s veins every four hours around the clock. “It’s saved countless lives since D-day. If the boys survive long enough to get to the hospital, we have a good chance of saving them. Even crazy boys playing hide-and-seek with German beach patrols.” She winked at Charlie.
He winked back and grinned.
Ivy smiled at her brother’s good cheer, but tears threatened. Captain Reed, the American medical officer, said her brother had arrived just in time. After two fretful days, Charlie had rallied. As soon as he was stable, he’d be sent to a hospital in England to complete his recovery.
After American Army officers had questioned Ivy, they’d sent her to Cherbourg to be questioned by the British. Since nothing in her story or papers aroused suspicion, they’d allowed her to stay with Charlie so she could accompany him to England. The nurses welcomed her to their quarters and begged for her stories.
But every story reminded her of Gerrit, and she’d heard no word about him or Bernardus since they were transported from the beach in separate lorries.
At least she’d been able to send telegrams to Mum, telling of the escape and of Charlie’s progress. Soon she might have a response.
“Excuse me, Dr. Picot?” Captain Reed approached with a civilian in a dark gray overcoat, and he beckoned to her. “May I have a word?”
“Yes, sir.” Ivy joined the two men.
Captain Reed gestured to the civilian. “This is Hugh Collingwood with the BBC. Mr. Collingwood, this is Dr. Ivy Picot.”
The radio correspondent had golden-brown hair and a bright smile, and Ivy shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And I you.”
“Mr. Collingwood would like to interview you and your brother.”
“With your permission,” Mr. Collingwood said. “I’m broadcasting a story about escapes from the Channel Islands. The evacuees in England are eager for stories from home, and what I’ve heard of your story is quite intriguing.”
Ivy glanced back at Charlie, who peered with interest at the newcomer. “I don’t know. We have family and friends who listen to the BBC at great risk. Even owning a wireless set is cause for imprisonment.”
“They might be reassured by news of your escape,” Mr. Collingwood said with concern in his voice. “But if it places them in danger...”
Ivy turned back. “We can be discreet. We have four years of experience.”
“Very well,” Mr. Collingwood said. “I’ll ask preliminary questions now, and we’ll record afterward. If you’d like anything removed from the recording, let me know.”
“Thank you.” After Captain Reed departed, Ivy led the correspondent to Charlie’s bedside. “Mr. Collingwood, this is my brother, Charles Picot. Charlie, this is Hugh Colling—”
“Of the BBC! I’ve heard you—” Charlie’s eyes stretched wide in alarm.
Mr. Collingwood pulled up a chair. “It’s quite all right, Mr. Picot. It’s no longer illegal for you to listen to the BBC.”
“Mr. Collingwood would like to interview us,” Ivy said.
Charlie grinned. “Smashing.”
