Chapter Twelve Aletta #2
‘You speak English?’ he managed, holding out his hand to shake hers. But he wobbled then, and she turned herself around and clasped it, keeping hold.
Aletta nodded. ‘I do. I’m Aletta.’
‘Harry,’ he said with a grimace.
He wobbled and she tightened her grip, keeping hold of his hand.
‘You don’t have to—’
‘Don’t even think about protesting. I’m keeping hold of you and I’m not letting go until we get to where we’re going.’
‘All right,’ he said, punching out another painful-sounding breath. ‘All right.’
When they finally stepped outside, with assurances about the newspaper delivery not being behind schedule and her additional contribution to their movement acknowledged, Aletta set off into the dark.
Her stomach clenched as she worked out roughly how long it should take them to get home, but she knew that Harry wasn’t able to move as nimbly as she was.
They were just going to have to go as fast as they could, and slow down when they needed to.
‘I’m guessing you know what happens to anyone caught out after curfew here,’ she whispered, still holding Harry’s hand with an iron grip.
‘I imagine,’ he said, grunting as she tugged him along, ‘that it’s similar to what they do to downed Allied airmen.’
Her mouth tugged upwards into a grin sensing that, despite his pain, he had a sense of humour.
‘I really don’t want to find out,’ she murmured. ‘But I’m thinking you might be right.’
They continued on, hugging the shadows, Aletta scanning the streets constantly, but so far, they were clear. She was surprised by how quickly he was moving, despite his injuries, and she wanted to maintain their pace while he could.
‘Whatever that doctor gave me is working,’ he mumbled. ‘I have the strangest sensation, almost like I can’t feel my legs properly.’
Aletta glanced down at his legs. That didn’t sound good to her.
‘I mean, I know they’re working, I’m walking after all, but it’s like they’re disconnected from me or something.’ He made another grunting sound. ‘And for some reason, I keep wanting to laugh. That’s not normal, is it? To want to laugh when my insides feel like they’re falling out?’
She found herself hiding a smile again, although it was even harder not to laugh from nerves. Clearly whatever pain relief he’d been given was doing its job. ‘Did no one tell you that your doctor was actually a veterinarian? He may have had to guess the dosage.’
Harry almost stopped walking then, but she tugged him along, not letting him slow down.
‘A veterinarian?’ he asked, sounding horrified. ‘So whatever he gave me . . .’
‘Was for animals,’ she said, finding her way around the English words, pleased that she was able to talk to him.
‘Christ almighty,’ he swore under his breath.
She did laugh then, not able to help herself. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Well, it wasn’t you who decided to let a veterinarian tend to me.’
‘Shhh,’ she hissed. ‘Keep your voice down. We don’t need anyone hearing that British accent, it’ll—’
‘A veterinarian!’ he exclaimed, clearly under the effects of whatever he’d been given.
She clamped her hand over his mouth. This man was going to be the death of her. She should never have offered to take him. But when Aletta glanced at him, she knew that not even a tiny part of her had considered leaving him behind.
‘Tell me, Aletta. What exactly are your parents going to say when they see me? Is there a chance . . .’ He groaned and she slowed as he pressed his other hand to his side and bent over a little, clearly in pain again. ‘Is there a chance they’ll turn me out into the street?’
‘On to the street?’ she asked, hoping she understood his meaning.
‘Turn me away, not let me in,’ he clarified.
‘Oh. No,’ she said, truthfully. ‘They’ll likely be furious, but not with you.’
‘Is there a chance they’ll turn you out into the street then?’
She bit down on her lip and shook her head, already imagining the look on her father’s face. ‘You let me worry about my parents,’ she whispered. ‘Now keep walking.’
Aletta pulled him along beside her, feeling him slow down as terror rose inside her.
She wanted to run for home, arms pumping and legs covering as much ground as possible, so walking like this was excruciating.
But she almost wished he’d go back to talking and joking with her, because she could tell that even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to now.
His breathing had become more laboured, and he was no longer gripping her hand.
‘Harry?’ she murmured, once they only had a few blocks left to go.
‘Yeah?’ It was more of a breath than a word.
‘We’re almost there, I just need you to stay with me, all right? Keep holding my hand.’
His grip had loosened further and she didn’t like it. It felt as if he were getting weaker, and if he staggered now or, heaven help her, fell down, there was no way she’d be able to get him back to her apartment. She simply wasn’t strong enough to brace his weight.
‘I can feel my legs now.’ He grunted again. ‘It hurts so fucking bad.’
She didn’t react to his language, but she did move closer to him, pressing her shoulder to his, and when he put an arm around her, Aletta didn’t move away.
His body felt warm against hers through the shirt he was wearing, maybe too warm, and as her apartment block came into view, she tried not to think about just how close he was to her, or how much she liked the feel of his arm around her.
She’d often joked with Cecilia about what it would feel like to have a man so close that she could smell his aftershave, and even though her friend would want every last detail, Aletta would have to report that this particular man smelt of disinfectant, not aftershave.
Which only served to remind her of the ordeal he’d been through.
Just keep the man alive, she told herself. She could think about his body being so close to hers later, once they were safe for the night. Because after the evening she’d just had, she’d have plenty of time to think. For it was doubtful that sleep would ever find her, certainly not tonight, anyway.
Aletta steeled herself once their apartment was only two blocks away, feeling Harry lean on her more heavily.
She stopped for a moment to catch her breath against a corner wall bathed in shadows, as she looked around them.
To get to her place they had to cross the road, when they’d be at their most vulnerable.
And just as she was about to tell Harry they had to go as fast as they possibly could, a shout rang out down the otherwise empty, silent street.
Please not now. Please don’t let us get this close only to get caught now.
Her breath caught in her chest as she heard another shout, and she pressed back tightly against the wall, drawing Harry with her, swallowed by the dark silhouette of the building.
She could tell that he was barely conscious, his breathing fast and shallow now, but he didn’t make a noise as they both waited, their backs pressed to the cool bricks.
A young man appeared, being chased by not one but two SS men, and Aletta watched in horror as they ran him down, one of them beating him across the back with a baton as they caught up to him.
There was another shout, and he was hauled away, back the same way they’d come, and she turned to Harry, her lips almost touching his ear.
‘The moment they disappear, we have to make a run for it.’
His head moved and she took that as a nod.
‘We’re almost there, and I know it’s going to take everything you have, but when I say go, we have to go.’
He turned his face slightly towards her and she felt a shiver run through her that was as much due to how scared she was as his proximity. But she didn’t have time to think about that right now – their lives depended upon her getting them across the road while the coast was clear.
She peered out into the street, squinting as she looked both ways. There could easily be soldiers waiting in the shadows, watching the road from some hidden vantage point, but they were going to have to take the chance.
‘Now,’ she whispered, holding him tight as they ambled as quickly as they could across the road, her arm tight around his waist.
Aletta ignored his muffled cries of pain, her only focus getting them to the entrance to her apartment block, and once they were there, she hurried him inside.
‘Keep going, up the stairs,’ she said. ‘One flight and then we’re there.’
All she received from him was a grunt, but bless him, despite the considerable pain he must have been in, Harry managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other until they were finally at her door.
And for the first time in hours, Aletta was able to breathe a steady sigh of relief.
The apartment was silent when they finally got inside, and Aletta finally let go of Harry’s hand, seeing how deathly pale his complexion had become, and hearing just how painful the wheeze of his breath sounded.
It was as if he’d run ten flights of stairs, except with a slight crackle to each inhale that didn’t sound at all right, and the bag she was clutching didn’t feel adequate enough to help him.
What use were medical supplies if she didn’t know how to use them?
‘Hello?’ she called out, wondering where her parents were. She’d expected her father to be sitting waiting with his eyes trained on the door. ‘Mother?’
Within seconds of calling out, both her mother and father came hurrying down the hall, breathless, and dressed as if they were about to leave the house.
She knew then they had been preparing to look for her, that they would have risked the consequences of breaching curfew to find her.
Which meant that tonight she could have lost them, if they’d been caught.
‘Aletta! We were . . .’
Her mother’s voice faded away as they stopped and stared.
‘Ahh, Mother, Father,’ she said, gesturing to the man standing beside her. ‘This is, this is, ah, Harry. He’s a British pilot.’
But before her father could say a word, his jaw still hanging open in surprise at their unexpected visitor, Harry collapsed to the floor beside her, his legs crumpling as if he’d been shot.