“I’ll be fine,” she replied, finally straightening. But the second she lifted her hands, they started to shake. She quickly fisted them, but not before Adelaide had seen them. Cate could see the recognition in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything and for that Cate was grateful. She didn’t need to be told to rest or to sit down, because she had a life to save, with no doctor to ask for help, no surgeon to work miracles. It was just her and a soldier who deserved better than to die like an abandoned, neglected dog.

“When did you last eat?” Adelaide asked gently. “That might help with the, ah . . .” She paused, glancing back at Cate’s hands. “With your fatigue.”

Cate managed a smile as her stomach growled in response. “It’s been a long time, days now, so yes, something to eat would help a lot. Thank you.” She pushed away the memory of eating air with Jack, of pretending to use a fork and visualizing real food.

“I’m going to fix you something,” Adelaide said. “It’ll make you feel better.”

She was also in desperate need of a wash, a warm drink to soothe her parched throat and a bed to curl up on, but food was a good start. Food would give her the energy to keep going.

Cate turned back to Jack, but for the first time since they’d left the hospital, she wondered if they’d done the right thing. Would he have had a better chance at survival if she’d left him behind in Dunkirk? Was he going to die because she had selfishly chosen to take him with her? She knew that he would argue with her and tell her that he’d rather die than be taken prisoner, but neither of them truly knew what the conditions would be like. And at least there would have been doctors, surgeons who could have saved his life, possibly without breaking a sweat. Instead, she’d dragged him into the great unknown.

She used her sleeve to wipe her brow, wishing she could keep her hair off her mud-streaked face, but when she reached up she found that almost all her pins had fallen out. She’d always been such a stickler when it came to her appearance, no matter the conditions; until now. Now she couldn’t even hastily bundle her hair off her face.

“Do you need help with him?”

Cate started, turning slowly and coming face to face with a man who looked to be about the same age as Jack. But it was his accent washing over her that startled her the most, because it reminded her so much of home. Of her brothers talking and laughing; of roast dinners and crackling fires. She blinked, realizing that he was clearly the man Elise had mentioned. Another British soldier. It was almost impossible to believe.