‘Ah, Miss, don’t disappoint me,’ continued the man.
Fitz ignored him. Her gaze firmly fixed on Sam.
‘Cut it out, Jones,’ said Sam.
Jones muttered something indeterminable but then didn’t say another word.
‘Hello, Sam,’ said Fitz as she reached his bed.
‘Why are you here?’
‘That’s a nice way to greet someone who’s come to see you.’ Fitz sat down on the bedside chair. From her bag she took out a newspaper and a bar of chocolate.
‘So, you’re here to while away ten minutes to ask me how I’m doing and make pitying comments about my injuries?’
‘My, we are feeling sorry for ourselves, aren’t we?’ said Fitz. She had prepared herself for Sam being bad-tempered but maybe not quite as hostile as he appeared to be.
‘Don’t start preaching about me being lucky to be alive,’ said Sam, not looking at her. ‘I may as well not be.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
Now he looked at her. ‘Are you serious? They did tell you what happened, didn’t they? I have only got one leg. They had to amputate half the other one.’
Fitz could see the pain and anger in his eyes but there was something else under the surface, there was fear. ‘I am fully aware of that,’ she said evenly. ‘You make it sound like your life is over.’
‘It may as well be.’
‘Why?’
Sam made a scoffing noise. ‘Because I can’t fucking walk.’
Fitz hadn’t heard Sam swear before but undeterred she carried on. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Hundreds of men are amputees and you can get the most amazing prosthetics these days. There’s nothing to stop you doing all the things you’ve always done. You’re just being silly.’
Sam closed his eyes for a moment. ‘If you’re finished giving me a lecture, then you really should go.’
Fitz let out a gentle sigh. ‘I’m not here to fight with you, Sam,’ she said softly. ‘I’m here to tell you I’m sorry for walking away from you. For not being honest with you. For not trusting you or myself.’
He took a deep breath before answering. ‘You should have saved yourself the journey. Like I said before, go and marry your squadron leader boyfriend.’
Fitz sighed. ‘There was no squadron leader. No boyfriend, at all,’ she confessed.
‘No boyfriend, huh?’ For a moment she thought she saw a brief look of relief on Sam’s face, but then it was gone, replaced by the scowl. ‘It’s irrelevant now anyway,’ he said.
Fitz pushed on. She hadn’t come here to be turned away at the first obstacle. That being Sam’s stubbornness. ‘When I heard your plane had been shot down, I was devastated,’ she said.
‘And it’s taken you all this time to come here. You don’t have to do this out of pity or any sense of loyalty.’
‘I’m not,’ said Fitz. ‘I was asked to join SOE.’ She probably wasn’t supposed to tell him, but she didn’t care. He deserved to know the truth.
He turned his head to look at her. ‘SOE?’
‘Yes, it’s––’
‘I know what it is.’
‘The night I was flown out to France, I saw Bob and he had the letter you’d written. I told him to look after it until I got back. I couldn’t take it with me. He told me you were MIA.’
She watched as Sam took in what she was telling him. ‘He shouldn’t have told you.’
