‘Yes, I know where Goodwood House is,’ replied Fitz. It was a country house that had recently been requisitioned by the government and turned into a war hospital. The large rooms had been subdivided to make wards and the great ballroom had been converted into a surgical ward. ‘Why is he there?’
Again, Marjorie’s hand rested on hers. ‘He’s recovering. He needed surgery when he got back.’
‘Surgery?’ Fitz gulped. ‘Please, tell me.’
‘His leg was badly injured in the crash,’ said Marjorie. ‘The French did everything they could, but the treatment was rudimentary. He was in rather a state when he arrived back in England. Thank goodness it was only a matter of days, though. It could have been a lot worse.’
‘How bad is the injury?’ asked Fitz. Her heart, which had leapt with joy at the news Sam was alive, was now taking a slow descent to somewhere in the pit of her stomach.
‘They had to amputate above the knee,’ said Marjorie softly.
‘Oh, no,’ Fitz whispered. ‘Oh, Sam. Sam. Sam.’ She dropped her head into her hands and cried silently for a moment. And then remembering they were in a tea room, she sat up and dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. She glanced around and saw the concerned look of a couple of women on a nearby table.
‘Shall we leave?’ suggested Elsie.
‘Good idea,’ said Marjorie. ‘Take Fitz outside. I’ll settle the bill.’
Fitz walked out of the tea room in something of a daze. She wasn’t heartbroken for herself, but for Sam. He would hate it. She knew he would.
‘At least he’s alive,’ comforted Elsie.
‘I know,’ said Fitz. ‘I’m not crying for me. I’m crying for him.’
‘He’ll probably go back to America,’ said Elsie.
‘Do you know that?’
‘Not exactly. I was just assuming.’
Fitz paced up and down the path as they waited for Marjorie. When their friend joined them, she had made up her mind what she was going to do.
‘Look, I’m really sorry, but I need to go. I need to see Sam,’ she said.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ asked Elsie.
‘I really don’t know,’ confessed Fitz. ‘But I need to see him before he makes some stupid decision to leave England.’
‘I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere soon,’ said Marjorie. ‘You don’t need to be hasty.’
‘I haven’t got much time,’ said Fitz. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Elsie.
‘Yes. Spill the beans,’ urged Marjorie.
‘You can’t ask any questions. You just have to accept what I say,’ said Fitz.
‘Dib-dib and all that,’ said Marjorie, making the Girl Guide promise sign.
‘I have a nine-year-old French girl I’m looking after,’ said Fitz carefully. ‘Only until the war is over but for now she’s here with me in England.’
This piece of information took even the unflappable Marjorie by surprise. ‘A nine-year-old French girl!’
‘Yep,’ said Fitz. She had to laugh at the stunned look on Elsie’s face. ‘I’ll explain when I can, but I’m taking her to my father’s tomorrow to see if she can stay there.’
Elsie suddenly found her voice. ‘You’ve been to France, haven’t you?’ And then her face was one of concern. ‘Oh, Fitz, your bruises …’
Fitz shook her head. ‘Please don’t ask.’
