I saw his eyes.

They were open.

I began to cry.

I threw myself on to him. I hugged him and hugged him.

At first, he didn’t respond.

Then he raised his right hand towards me and tried to articulate something.

I began to laugh manically, with that nervous laughter of someone who’s cracking up. Someone whose nerves have suddenly given way. Someone whose dam has burst. My eyes were so full of tears that I could barely see him. I think the emotion I felt at that moment was as powerful as at his birth. No – even stronger. I was witnessing the second birth of my own child. His eyes were open, he was moving his hand, his arm, he was trying to speak. He was alive. Louis was alive. He’d done it. I’d done it, we’d done it. We were going to be able to carry on, together. Be happy, together. Always.

It was the most beautiful day of my life, I believe. It may sound stupid, said like that, but it was so true. What a beautiful day it was. How beautiful he was. How proud I was of Louis. Louis tried to speak, but I couldn’t understand him. It would come. We had our whole lives for that. I talked to him, too. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you should say what you feel. Always.

‘My darling. I’m so happy. I’m here. I’m listening to you. You’re amazing. You’re so beautiful, my Louis . . .’

I moved away slightly to look at him.

I waited a little, and his face froze.

Then I saw.

His eyes.

I took a step back.

There was terror in his eyes.

My son tried to speak again.

And this time I understood. I understood what he was trying to say.

I understood the despair in that dark look.

I understood what Charlotte had meant, why she was in a hurry to talk to me before I went into that room.

My son, my love, my king.

Louis had just managed to utter, with great difficulty, three little words that pierced my heart:

‘Who . . . are . . . you?’

25

Alive

I turned around. Mum came over and hugged me. She was crying. She kept saying that Louis was alive.

‘He’s alive. You’ve done it. It’s thanks to you that he’s come back, you can be certain of it. He’ll remember. You wouldn’t let us explain to you beforehand, you’re so stubborn. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree . . . I also came rushing into the room, last night, and got into big trouble with the entire staff. We have to take it slowly, but his memory will come back.’

I was completely at a loss. Why had she left me a message telling me not to listen to the earlier messages?