‘That’s about all we can do for now,’ he said wearily as he straightened from the bed and wiped his brow. He had been working for almost twenty-four hours and looked fit to drop.

‘Then you lie down and get some sleep. I can watch him,’ Holly offered.

He was so exhausted that he didn’t even argue but headed for the nearest bed.

‘Thank you, but while I’m resting can you get as much fluid into him as you can. If he won’t take it use a syringe out of my bag to get it into him. We don’t want him dehydrating on top of everything else.’

Holly went to his bag to do as she was asked and when she next turned back, Richard was already fast asleep. She paused to stare at his peaceful face for a moment and had to resist the impulse to reach out and stroke his cheek, and in that instant she knew without doubt that she still cared deeply for him. But now was not the time for such thoughts so she forced her attention back to the patient.

It was one of the longest nights that she could remember as she constantly mopped the airman’s brow and syringed water into his mouth. Eventually he began to come round and Holly had to hold the bowl to his chin as the effects of the chloroform made him vomit. And then his eyes blinked open and he stared at her fearfully for a moment.

‘It’s all right, you’re safe,’ she reassured him gently. ‘Your plane took a hit and you had to jump. Do you remember? You landed in a tree in your parachute and I’m afraid you broke your leg.’

‘B-but where am I? Is … this a hospital?’

‘No, we are behind enemy lines still, but a French farmer found you and brought you here to recover. Dr Parkin over there and myself will look after you now until you’re well enough to be transferred to the field hospital.’

He managed a weak smile and then his eyes closed again and Holly continued to mop his brow. She had no idea how long she sat there. Time seemed to have no relevance in the cellar; she didn’t even know if it was still night or day. The sounds from above had ended long ago when the family went to bed but eventually she became aware of footsteps again and then the trapdoor was opened and a weak light flooded down the stairs. Claudette appeared clad in an old woollen dress and large shawl with a tray in her hands.

Unlike her husband she could speak no English so she gestured to the pot of tea and the toast and porridge.

‘Merci,’ Holly told her and the woman looked relieved.

‘Ah, you speak French?’

Holly nodded as Richard stirred on the bed.

‘And how is the patient?’ Claudette asked as Richard sat up and knuckled the sleep from his eyes.

‘Richard set his leg last night as best he could and he has woken so now we’ll just have to wait and see,’ Holly told her in French.