I knew adrenaline was keeping me going at this point. I just needed to get out of the hotel and home, where Maman would clean me up. I focused on what I had to do. Taking a deep breath, I got to my feet, wincing at the pain. I needed something better to dress the wound with. I was certain it wasn’t fatal, but bad enough that I needed it attended to.
My scarf was in my coat pocket and, using the apron as a pad, I wrapped the scarf around me before putting on my coat and holding my arm to my side to keep everything in place.
I took one last look at Bochette and felt no remorse. She didn’t deserve my pity.
Unlocking the door, I was out in the fresh air. Again, I took a deep breath to steady myself and walked calmly away from the hotel. Someone would find Bochette but they wouldn’t know it was me who delivered the fatal blow. There were no witnesses. I just had to hold my nerve. I still had things to do before I was finished here.
Chapter 33
Nathalie
My side throbbed, and it took every ounce of effort to stop myself from doubling over from the pain that shot through me every now and then. The walk home had never felt so far. Fortunately, I didn’t encounter any random checks, and it was not without much relief that I barrelled in through the door to our apartment.
It was only then I allowed myself to crumple and cry with pain.
Maman and Papa rushed out from the living room.
‘I’ve been injured,’ I managed to say, before wincing in pain once more.
They helped me to my feet and into the bathroom and, as I sat on the side of the bath, we all inspected my wound.
‘What happened?’ gasped Maman. ‘What did you do?’
Papa was kneeling in front of me, looking at my injury. ‘You’ve lost a lot of blood and it doesn’t look like it’s stopping.’
‘Can you sew it up?’
‘What sort of question is that? We need a doctor,’ said Maman.
I looked at Papa and gave a small shake of my head. ‘No doctor,’ I whispered.
‘This is ridiculous …’ began Maman and then stopped mid-sentence. ‘Oh, Nathalie, what have you been doing?’
‘I was attacked,’ I began. ‘At the hotel, by the housekeeper.’
‘Then it must be reported,’ said Maman, still not quite understanding the situation.
‘No. Don’t ask me what happened, but no, it can’t be reported,’ I said.
Papa squeezed my hand. ‘You need stitches,’ he said.
‘I don’t know anyone better with a needle and thread,’ I replied.
‘Oh, you cannot … no … no,’ gasped Maman.
Papa got to his feet. ‘Stay calm, Therese. It needs to be done. I need you to clean the wound while I prepare everything.’
Maman hesitated, but then sprang into action. ‘I have some iodine in the cupboard here.’ She opened the bathroom cabinet and sifted through several bottles before producing the one she was looking for. ‘Now, warm water and a sterile cloth. And you, Théodule, need to wash your hands properly. I’ll boil some water. Nathalie, you need to lie down. I’ll put a towel on the sofa.’
Maman went into full mother mode– the role she loved best– and soon had us organised.
Papa came and sat beside me, passing me a small glass of brandy. ‘For emergencies,’ he said. ‘And for medicinal purposes. Drink it in one.’
I gulped the liquor down and then lay back. Maman held my hands, and I braced myself for the pain. The cleaning was bad enough, but the actual stitching was horrendous. It was all I could do to stop myself from screaming out.
Several excruciating minutes later and Papa was dressing the now sewn-up wound. ‘You did well.’
I don’t remember anything else as I felt myself pass out.
