‘I think she died of a broken heart,’ the nurse said.

It was not a condition that you’d be likely to find in any medical book, but Angie couldn’t disagree. ‘You may be right,’ was all she said.

Another nurse came in. ‘That boy wants to speak to you, Doctor. He says it’s urgent.’

‘Thank you.’

Jerzy was beside himself with excitement. ‘She spoke to someone, Doctor. I watched them.’

‘Who did she speak to? Anyone you recognised?’

‘No. New man. He just walk into camp and she see him immediately because she always sit by the gate. Then he see her. I watch them through the lens.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘I don’t know – a man. He had big coat on, like an army coat, though I don’t know why because day is not cold. And a hat.’

‘Is he still there?’

Jerzy shook his head. ‘No, he gone away. I think she want go with him, but he make her stay.’ He grinned. ‘The man gave her big kiss. It was funny.’

‘Did you get a picture?’

‘Oh yeah, Dr Angie, I got good pictures with the film you gave me. When film is finished I give you.’

She held out her hand. ‘Give me the film. I have to get it developed.’

‘No. Not finished.’

‘Please, Jerzy, I need it now. Tom will want it processed in a hurry. I’ll do my best to find you another roll.’

‘OK. Five minutes – I go shoot some snaps around the camp. Can I take your picture, Doctor?’

‘Go on then, if it speeds things up.’

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The corpse itself was not the worst thing. Everyone who had survived the war had already become inured to the sight of bodies, either in bombing raids, in the camps or on the battle-field. But this was different; this was grotesque mutilation.

The corpse was on the tiled floor of the chapel, but parts of the body were laid out like holy relics in a dish on the altar.

The dead man’s tongue, his eyes and his ears were there, on the silver paten – the platter used by priests at mass to hold the Eucharistic bread. The amount of blood both on the paten and around the dead man’s head suggested he was still alive and bleeding profusely when these organs were cut from his face. He would have been defenceless, for his arms and legs were tightly bound with thick rope.

‘Dear God in heaven, it’s Uncle August.’ Paula clasped her hands to her cheeks in horror. ‘What have they done to him? Who has done this terrible thing?’

‘You tell me.’

Paula’s gaze swivelled between the corpse and the platter on the altar, then she turned away and fell to her knees. ‘I can’t look. The eyes stare at me.’ She lowered her head and began to pray.