Somehow Fitz managed to pick Yvette up in her arms, and get to her feet, before hurrying down the road towards the cottage.
Fitz had underestimated just how tired she was herself. She staggered up the path to the cottage and hoped to God the occupant would be sympathetic to their plight.
Before Fitz had even reached the front door, it was pulled open by a woman, probably in her forties. She took in the sight before her.
‘Help me, please,’ said Fitz, surprised to hear her voice cracking with desperation. ‘She’s not well.’
The woman took one more look at Fitz and Yvette, before opening her door wide and ushering them inside. ‘Come. Quickly,’ she said. ‘Here, let me take her.’ She took Yvette from Fitz and carried her through into the living room, shooing two young girls from the sofa. ‘You’re both soaking,’ she said as she placed Yvette down on the cushions. She turned to the children. ‘Monique, go upstairs and bring me one of your clean nightdresses from the cupboard. Amelie fetch two blankets from my bed and a clean towel.’
The children scurried off as instructed.
The change in air, coming into a warm room with a small fire alight in the hearth, must have set Yvette’s cough off. The woman placed a cushion behind her head so Yvette was in a more upright position. ‘How long has she been like this?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure. Maybe a day or two with the cough,’ said Fitz. ‘But the temperature came on this afternoon.’
The woman nodded and telling Fitz to sit down, left the room, coming back a few minutes later with a bowl of warm water and a flannel.
‘My name is Jeanne. I am a nurse.’
Fitz could hardly believe her good fortune. She wanted to weep with relief. ‘Claudine Bardot,’ she said. ‘Thank you for helping us.’
The children returned with the dry clothing, bedding and clean towel. ‘Go into the kitchen and warm some soup for our guests,’ Jeanne instructed her daughters.
‘You’re too kind,’ said Fitz.
‘It is the least I can do,’ said Jeanne. She put the flannel to one side and with the help of Fitz, they changed Yvette into the dry nightgown and covered her with a blanket. Jeanne got to her feet. ‘Come with me. You need some dry clothes, too. And a wash.’
Fitz inwardly winced. She hadn’t considered what a sight they might look. When they went into Jeanne’s bedroom, Fitz caught sight of herself in the mirror and let out a cry of alarm. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, inspecting her bruised and battered face closer. ‘I didn’t realise. I haven’t seen myself like this.’
Jeanne stood beside her and put her hand on Fitz’s shoulder. ‘You don’t have to explain. It is obvious what has happened to you and God has brought you to my door for a purpose. I will get some medicine for the child in the morning. I am on good terms with the doctor. Also, I have friends who can help you both. Tomorrow I will speak to them. You can stay here tonight. You’re safe now.’
The kindness from the woman was too much for Fitz and she sobbed in Jeanne’s arms like a child.
Chapter 27
Looking in the bedroom mirror, Fitz was horrified to see the extent of bruising to her face. Jeanne came into the bedroom with a bottle of vodka and a pot of some sort of balm.
‘Please, can I clean your wounds? You don’t want them to become infected.’ She had dabbed Fitz’s face with the vodka and then applied what she explained was a homemade arnica balm to the bruising. ‘This will help to soothe the skin,’ she said. ‘Is it just your face?’
Fitz shook her head. She slipped the towel from her back and heard Jeanne give a sharp intake of breath. ‘You poor thing,’ said the Frenchwoman.
Fitz winced as Jeanne applied the alcohol and balm to her back. ‘Thank you,’ she said afterwards. ‘Is it bad?’
‘Some of the skin is broken,’ said Jeanne. ‘You might have scarring,’ she added gently.
Fitz didn’t really care. She was at this point simply grateful to be alive. ‘You’re very kind to take us in like this,’ she said to Jeanne, who was now looking through her wardrobe and placing some clothes on the bed.
‘How could I not? I’m glad you came to my door,’ replied Jeanne. ‘Here are some clean clothes for you. They might be a little big.’
‘Thank you,’ said Fitz again. She felt overwhelmed by the kindness of this woman, but she didn’t want to keep crying. She needed to be strong. She wouldn’t be able to stay here for long, it would be putting Jeanne in too much danger. ‘How is Yvette?’ she asked.
‘She’s not well,’ said Jeanne. ‘If her fever doesn’t break tonight, I will have to ask the doctor to visit. He is a good man.’
Fitz had known Jeanne less than an hour and already she knew she could trust the Frenchwoman. ‘I should sit with her in case she wakes up. She’ll be scared and I promised I wouldn’t leave her.’
Jeanne held up her hand. ‘You need to rest, too. Please, use my bed. I’ll bring the child up to you. Yvette, you say her name is?’
‘Yes. She’s been through a lot,’ said Fitz. She wanted to tell Jeanne, but she also knew she couldn’t. ‘I wish I could tell you more.’
