Chapter Thirteen Aletta #2
‘I’m going to stay with him,’ she said, looking up at her parents, prepared to fight them on it if she needed to. Because she needed to stay with him, and she wasn’t prepared to back down. ‘I know he’s a young man and it might seem inappropriate, but—’
‘We’re not going to stop you, Aletta,’ her mother said. ‘He needs someone to watch over him.’
She couldn’t have been more surprised. ‘Thank you.’
Aletta watched them shuffle through the little door, listening to them talk about cleaning the carpet where they’d tended to Harry earlier, and she positioned herself beside him, tucking the blanket up a little higher to keep him warm.
There was a lamp on in the room, and it cast shadows over his skin as she studied his face.
‘You’re going to make it, Harry, do you hear me? I’m not letting you die on my watch.’
And so, Aletta settled in, drawing one of the blankets over her lower legs as she leaned against the wall and fixed her gaze on the steady rise and fall of his chest, intending to watch every breath he took until he finally stirred.
Aletta wasn’t sure exactly when she’d fallen asleep or how many hours she’d sat guard beside Harry, but when she woke, she was immediately aware of how hot she was. Boiling hot.
She pushed the hair back from her face and swallowed, her mouth dry as she realised that she’d slumped down beside Harry, and that she wasn’t so ridiculously warm because of the extra layers she’d put on, or the fact they were in an airless room.
Harry was burning up, and the heat had radiated from him through to her.
‘Harry,’ she said, giving his shoulder a gentle shake before placing her hand to his forehead.
He didn’t respond, but his skin was clammy and hot, and she knew that he had a fever. If she hadn’t fallen asleep, she would have seen the sheen on his skin.
Aletta leapt up, pulling the blankets from his body and hurrying out of the room. She filled a bowl with cold water and found a cloth and a towel, hurrying back to him while trying not to slosh the water everywhere.
Through still-bleary eyes she unbuttoned his shirt and left it open, dipping the small towel into the water and then wringing it out a little before placing it over his skin. Then she used the cloth to wipe cool, damp circles over his face, squeezing a little over his lips.
You can’t die on me, Harry. Please don’t die. Please. She knew she’d never be able to forgive herself if he did.
She kept bathing his burning skin, stopping only to refill her bowl with colder water before tending to him again. And finally, when her back had begun to ache and her fingers were sore, she realised that he was no longer on fire.
She placed her hand over his forehead, then against his cheek, and eventually she put her palm to his chest and held it there.
It felt wrong to touch him so intimately when he was asleep, and it made Aletta’s heart race to have her skin against his like that, the closest she’d ever been to a young man before.
But it also healed her heart to know that his fever had broken.
‘We’re not out of the woods yet,’ she whispered, letting her hand linger there for a few moments longer than necessary before checking his bandage, pleased to see that only a small amount of blood had stained the fresh fabric.
Aletta discarded her bowl of water and the towels, placing it all in the corner of the room, before going back to Harry and tucking the blanket up to his chin. He was cool now, and she certainly didn’t want him to get any colder.
She only wished that she could sleep as soundly as he was for a few hours before dawn.
When Aletta woke, she’d forgotten where she was. Something soft, although a little bit scratchy, was beneath her cheek, and when she pushed up, whatever she was leaning against most definitely wasn’t the floor.
And then her cheeks set alight.
The soft thing she’d been sleeping on was Harry.
‘Morning,’ he said, his voice gravely from pain or sleep or maybe both.
‘Ah, good morning,’ she said, quickly sitting up and running a hand through her hair and a tongue over her teeth. She imagined she looked a fright. ‘How are you feeling?’
He grunted. ‘Like I’ve been hit by a bus.’
It took her a moment to understand the joke, but when she did, she smiled. She couldn’t help it. Despite the slight clench of his teeth when he shifted position, and the bandage on the side of his abdomen, he actually looked pretty good.
‘I haven’t been able to stretch my legs for a while.’
Aletta was about to ask why, when she saw the side of his mouth kick up into a smile, and then she realised. He hadn’t been able to move because of her tucked up asleep on him. She shuffled even further away from him.
‘Sorry about that. It was a long night.’
His eyes softened and she felt her cheeks heat again, even though all she saw in his gaze was kindness. But that gaze was still fixed on her, which was embarrassing, given that they were alone.
‘You stayed in here and looked after me all night?’ he asked.
Aletta nodded. ‘I did. You had a fever and . . .’ She glanced over at the bowl of water and towels she’d left in the corner. ‘Anyway, I’m just happy you’re awake.’
He smiled again, and she found herself thinking that it was one of the nicest smiles she’d ever seen. Heat rushed into her face again and she tried her best to ignore it.
‘You must have family who’re worried about you,’ she said, shuffling back a little and stretching her own legs out.
‘I do. But they’ll be grateful to you for keeping me alive.’
I’m grateful that you’re alive, she thought, which she knew sounded silly when she barely knew him, but still. If he’d not survived the night, she’d never have forgiven herself.
A knock sounded out then, and Aletta looked up as her mother’s head appeared.
‘Thank goodness the patient is awake,’ her mother said with a sigh of relief, ducking down to come through and then crouching beside Harry, switching to heavily accented English. ‘I’m Emma, Aletta’s mother. I speak a little English.’
Harry held out his hand, but Aletta didn’t miss his wince when he leaned a little too far forward.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ Harry said, his breath huffing a little as he adjusted his position again. ‘Thank you for taking me in.’
‘Well, Aletta didn’t give us much choice on the taking you in part, but I’m very happy to see you upright this morning. You had us all worried there.’
‘Thank you, Aletta,’ Harry said. ‘Your bravery is something else.’
She imagined that it was stupidity more than bravery, but she didn’t say anything as her mother gestured to Harry’s wound.
‘May I take a look?’
He nodded and Aletta leaned in too. It was a relief not to see any more bleeding, and she hoped the worst of it was behind them.
‘You need to be fastidious about those antibiotics and keeping the wound clean, Aletta,’ her mother said, switching back to Dutch. ‘Make sure he has them morning and night so that we don’t have an infection on our hands.’
Aletta glanced over at the bowl and decided not to say anything about the temperature he’d had through the night. The fever had broken quite quickly, and he seemed well enough now, so she would keep that as her own little secret so that her mother didn’t have that to worry about, too.
‘Harry, do you think you can move? Or should we bring breakfast to you?’
He immediately went to push himself up and hissed out a breath.
‘Let me get you something for the pain,’ Aletta said, trying to remember what was in the bag she’d been given.
‘I’ll be fine if you just give me a minute,’ he said.
‘Or you can just stay here and—’
He shook his head, and her mother inclined her head that they should leave him. When they were in the other room, her mother leaned in close: ‘The poor man probably needs to relieve himself, and he certainly won’t want any help with that.’
Aletta’s cheeks, she was certain, were stained a deep red all over again, but she simply nodded and went to find the bag of supplies.
She would take it back to him with a glass of water and then tell him to find his way to the kitchen for breakfast, while she changed and made herself look a little more presentable.
When Aletta stepped in to the kitchen, she heard her father speaking and knew that Harry was already there.
She didn’t know how he’d found the strength to get all the way through the apartment, let alone through the little door in the wardrobe of the sewing room, and she was pleased to see him sitting there at her kitchen table.
‘Good morning,’ she said to her father, touching his shoulder as she passed and joining her mother in the kitchen.
‘Je verbergt jezelf,’ her father was saying, making all sorts of signs and gestures that made Aletta bite her lip to stop from laughing. ‘Je verbergt jezelf,’ he said again, pretending to duck under the table.
She nodded and glanced at Harry. ‘Do you have any idea what he’s trying to tell you?’
He shook his head, but had the good grace to keep smiling.
She sighed and turned to her father, telling him that she would translate. He spoke quickly, and she told Harry what her father wanted him to know.
‘He’s saying that he’s trusting you to be under his roof with his daughter, and he wants you to stay hidden at all times. That is the rule for allowing you to stay here, that you must stay in the room at all times when we’re not here.’
‘Yes sir,’ Harry said, his voice lowering a little when he said: ‘I owe your daughter my life.’
Their eyes met and Aletta felt an unfamiliar flutter deep in her stomach as she translated.
Her parents began to talk then, and she was vaguely aware of her mother mentioning going to the shops to see what food was available and her father to work, but her focus was on Harry.
Thankfully she was able to busy herself with spreading fruit preserve on her slice of bread and stirring her coffee.
‘Aletta?’
She turned when her father said her name, looking up as he stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder.
‘I want you to know that any anger I felt towards you last night was born of fear,’ he said, softly, as if he didn’t quite trust his own voice, but speaking English so that Harry could understand. ‘I would have brought this young man home, too, and I wanted you to know that.’
Aletta smiled up at her father. ‘I know you would have,’ she replied.
And it was true – she’d seen her father’s struggles, the empathy he felt towards others from the very beginning of this war.
It was the reason she’d chosen to bring Harry home with her, knowing that he wouldn’t turn him away, no matter how worried or upset he might be with her in the moment.
She said goodbye to him and turned to Harry, spreading his second piece of bread for him. It was clear that even the act of leaning forward and trying to do it himself was enough to cause him pain.
‘He’s a good man, your father,’ Harry said. ‘You’re lucky to have him.’
The way he said it made her wonder if his own father wouldn’t have done the same. ‘Your father—’
‘Would be the kind of man to close his door to another, not open it, no matter how much my mother might protest.’ His jaw seemed to harden as she watched him. ‘Which only makes me all the more grateful for yours.’
They sat across from each other, both eating, and Aletta was grateful she had something to keep her occupied. It was one thing to care for Harry when he was unconscious and injured, but it was another entirely to sit across from him and try not to stare when he was awake.
Because one she’d excelled at, and the latter she was finding very, very difficult indeed.