Flors gasped. Taking Cyrus’s hand gave her no comfort, as her mind showed Flors her darling friend Ella, and all she had been through. Yes, Ella would have been shocked that her Paulo was injured, but she would have put aside her plans to volunteer at the hospital in Scotland and would have found a way to cope, in nursing him back to health. But Paulo dying? No . . . no, that can’t happen!

Cyrus didn’t speak, and his face was ashen.

At the end of a long corridor, they were shown into a side ward. The scene that met them broke Flors’s heart. A bruised and battered Sibbie sat, holding Paulo’s hand. Paulo looked so close to death that his face was an expressionless yellow mask, which didn’t appear like him. His jaw was jutting out to one side, despite the bandage wrapped around his chin and taped at the top of his head, indicating that it was broken. His closed eyes sank deep into bruised and blackened sockets, with one cheek distorted and swollen.

‘Sibbie. Oh, Sibbie, my darling niece. I – I . . . oh God! That this should happen, my poor, poor darling.’

Sibbie rose and came into Flors’s open arms. The hug Flors gave made Sibbie wince.

‘You’re in pain! My brave, brave girl. You should be in bed, too. How could anyone do this to you both?’

Sibbie didn’t speak; her lovely dark eyes were bloodshot and looked up at Flors from swollen black and yellow sockets. Through her hair, raw patches of skin showed, where chunks had been pulled out. Her fingers were bound in plasters, and Flors could feel that her body was encased in bandages, while blisters covered her arms. ‘Are your ribs broken, my darling?’

‘Yes, they are so painful.’

‘You must rest, Sibbie.’

‘I can’t leave Paulo. I love him so very much. We love each other. We . . . we’re going to be married.’

Flors’s heart broke for this very dear young couple. She and Ella had known for a long time that they loved each other and had waited for the moment when they acknowledged their love. She was glad that moment had happened, but felt so very sad, too.

She looked around the room. It was big enough to fit in another bed, which, when Sibbie or Paulo weren’t being tended to, could be pushed close to the existing bed. ‘Sit down, darling. I’ll go and see the sister of the ward.’ Turning to Cyrus, Flors saw the hurt and the deep love in his eyes, before he gently supported Sibbie as she painfully lowered herself back into the hard wooden chair, which must be so uncomfortable for her.