Alexandra started to shake uncontrollably. ‘I was so frightened,’ she said, ‘I thought I’d be here all night.’
‘We must get you home. Are you hurt in anyway?’
‘My ankle …’
‘Can you put weight on it?’
She tried and winced. ‘A little. It’s not broken.’
‘It may be sprained.’
‘We could use my scarf to tie it up.’ She put her hand up to her head and realised that she’d lost her scarf somewhere along the way. Now she was safe she felt even more aware of the danger she’d been in. She felt obliged to explain herself. ‘I tried to be sensible. I left a note. I left signs—’
‘And I found them. Can you walk?’
‘Of course!’ said Alexandra, her courage returning just a little. She tested her ankle again, and whimpered. ‘You may need to hold on to me. But can you walk? It’s so slippery.’
‘I brought a ski stick. I won’t let you fall. Now, can you hold Milou’s lead with your other hand?’
Antoine obviously hadn’t thought it was tempting fate to bring a lead as she had done. ‘I’ll put it round my wrist. He seems to want to stay close anyway. But if he hears another boar—’
‘There were boar? Oh, Alexandra! Were you frightened?’
‘No,’ she said, and then corrected herself. ‘I was absolutely terrified.’
Chapter Thirty-two
Antoine held on to her, tightly, as she walked step by limping step. Alexandra realised he was taking almost all her weight but it couldn’t be helped. Being close to him kept her going. She felt almost as if they were the same person.
At last they reached the bottom of the wood where a man was waiting with a battered Citroën Deux Chevaux with its headlights on.
Antoine and the man had a conversation in a dialect too broad for Alexandra to understand. Then Antoine lifted her into the front seat and got in the back with Milou. As they bumped along it occurred to Alexandra that Antoine spoke two sorts of French, one for the drawing room and one for the people on his farm. She had picked up some dialect words when she was working with the builders but she didn’t understand much of what Antoine and his friend had just said, although she recognised the word sanglier, which meant boar.
When they reached the front door of the chateau, Antoine jumped out of the car, ran round to the front and picked her up off the front seat. Then he carried her into the house and sat her in the big hall chair. Milou followed. The two young cats ran out to meet him, delighted to have their leader back home.
David was there. ‘Oh, Lexi! What on earth has happened to you? You’re all mud. And here’s Milou! You horrible dog! You had us all so worried.’
‘Look after her for me, David,’ said Antoine. ‘I must just talk to Hervé and thank Bruno and the men who came with me to search for Alexandra. And then I must telephone Nice, so Stéphie knows that Milou is safe.’ He looked at Alexandra, who was starting to shiver. ‘No need to mention anything else.’
David didn’t hesitate. ‘Let’s get you into the warm,’ he said to Alexandra. ‘Although you may want to have some sort of a wash first. Can you walk?’
‘Give me your arm as far as the loo door. I’ll be fine then.’
She deliberately didn’t look at the mirror over the sink. She didn’t want to know how awful and bedraggled she looked. She just got the worst off with cold water and the towel which would probably bear signs of mud on it forever.
David was waiting for her and helped her through to the kitchen where there was a blazing fire in the range.
‘I put as much wood on it as I could in the hope of getting some hot water,’ said David, helping her over to the chair that was pulled up close to the fire. ‘I don’t suppose I’ve done much for the water, but it’ll warm you if you sit by it.’
She sat down gingerly as her aches and pains began to make themselves felt. David helped her get her shoes and socks off and wrapped her bare feet in a towel.
‘I’ll get your slippers in a minute but I’ll leave the brandy with you while I feed Milou. He must be starving.’
Alexandra drank the brandy that David had poured, relishing the warmth of it as it went down.
‘Right,’ said David, ‘now you need something hot.’ He added more brandy to her glass. ‘What do you fancy? Hot milk? Hot chocolate? Soup would take longer. Toast? Scrambled egg?’
She interrupted him. ‘David? I’ve just remembered. Aren’t you supposed to be looking at art?’
