An English Patient
Southern England, July 1944
I looked out of my window, across the lawn and off into the distance where the North Downs were a blue-green blur on the horizon. I'd shocked the good Doctor Matthews rigid by recovering enough to be discharged from the infirmary within three weeks of my inauspicious arrival from Berlin, and had been sent on to Moncreif House, a well-kept country pile just outside Redhill which had been commandeered as a convalescent home for wounded soldiers, where I was supposed to continue my recovery.
Now, a fortnight later, I was beginning to go stir crazy.
At the root of the problem was the fact that the nurses didn't seem to know what to do with me. They'd been tasked with getting me as fit and healthy as Matthews had thought possible (although he still had doubts that my leg would ever be one hundred percent), and had been given a detailed programme of how long that was supposed to take. But much as it had been in the infirmary, for whatever reason (I was as baffled as they were) my progress was faster than they'd anticipated. So now, despite the fact that from what I could tell when I tested my own limits, said injured leg was now well on the way to a full recovery, and I wanted to exercise it, the nurses were reluctant for me to do so, as their instructions said it shouldn't be possible. This had led to various heated exchanges between myself and my carers, as my frustration got the better of my good manners.
I was turning into the patient from Hell.
The late July sun looked warm and invited, and after a few moments of wistfulness, I decided to take the bull by the horns and go for a walk. I crossed to the door of my room and glanced out into the corridor. It looked like the coast was clear. Feeling like a naughty schoolboy, I left the room and headed towards the garden door. As I walked, I realised that apart from some stiffness from the red and angry scarring around the bullet wound itself, I was barely limping. My main problem was that my fitness had gone down the swanny, between two weeks with the Gestapo and five weeks recovering. Still, fitness could be recovered, if only I could persuade the nurses to let me do it.
I'd made it through the garden door and out onto the terrace, and briefly paused to take in the sounds and smell of summer, when a female voice cut through my reverie.
"Captain Cushing?"
I sighed and turned towards it, expecting to see one of the nurses, but instead my eyes lighted on my beautiful saviour from Berlin. A broad grin spread across my face.
"Lieutenant Rose."
Our eyes met for a moment, and then she was looking me up and down, obviously inspecting me for signs of the injuries I'd had when she'd last seen me.
"You clean up quite nicely, Captain," she commented, finally, "I hardly recognised you."
"Ian, please," I replied, "I think that after you saved my life, standing on ceremony is somewhat redundant."
"Ian, then," she answered, "I'm Audrey."
And she offered me her hand to shake. I took it and brought it to my lips to kiss it: an old-fashioned gesture, perhaps, but I couldn't resist it.
"Very gallant," she said, as I released it.
"I'm trying to make up for the bad impression I must have made when you first met me."
"There's nothing for you to make up for," she answered, and I looked at her, surprised, and then smiled.
"Thank you for being there," I said, and an awkward silence fell between us. "I was planning to play hooky and go for a walk," I added, finally, offering her my arm, "would you care to join me?"
"I'd love to," she answered, looping her arm in mine, and we headed for the steps down onto the lawn.
Seated in chairs at strategic intervals around the lawn were other patients, some of them being tended by the nurses, and the others just sitting in the sunshine, either enjoying it or too catatonic to do differently. I steered us away from the nurses where I could, although eventually one of them was going to spot me, and made my way towards the edge of the property, where it was quiet and we were slightly hidden by the old trees lining the edges of the lawn. There we leant on the fence, looking over the fields, sharing the summer day, drinking up the sunshine, and in my case feeling that for the first time in a while, all was right with the world.
"I must say, I'm surprised at how well you look," she said, finally.
"You and my doctors both," I answered, "I put it down to clean living and sheer pig headedness. I've no desire to be a cripple and I want to get back on duty as soon as I can."
"You know you won't be allowed to go back to Berlin."
"Trust me, I'd be happy never to see the place again. Or any of the murdering bastards who run it. I just hope that I get a new posting which allows me to do something useful, rather than being pensioned off to a desk somewhere or worse...given a medical discharge."
"Well the latter doesn't seem very likely. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I wouldn't have realised that you'd been hurt."
"Try telling that to the nurses. I could do with someone else pointing out what they seem to be choosing to ignore."
"Perhaps I will." She lapsed into silence, and we stood listening to the sound of birdsong for a few minutes. Then she caught me by surprise with her next question. "How are you sleeping?"
I froze, and I felt the colour drain from my cheeks. Once I'd passed through the danger zone and had begun my recovery, I'd been having recurring nightmares. Ritter and his men beating me within an inch of my life again, and again, and again. But I hadn't shared them either with Matthews or the nurses, as I'd suspected that if I had, I would have been sent to a rather different kind of sanatorium.
"How did you know?" I asked, quietly.
"Educated guess," she answered, "I doubt anyone could have survived what you went through without there being some kind of after effects."
"You think I'm crazy," I said, my earlier feeling of bonhomie draining away.
"No," she replied, gently, "I think that physically, you're nearly healed, but mentally, you're still in pain, whatever you say, and I want to help."
"Why? It's not like we really know each other."
"Because everyone needs a friend, and from what I've learned about you, there isn't really anyone you're close to, outside of your family."
"You've been checking up on me?" I asked, not sure whether to be flattered or angry.
"You've piqued my interest," she replied, with a disarming smile, "and more than that, you need somebody to talk to."
"Is that the only reason?"
"No, but why don't we start there, and then see what happens?"
"Lieutenant Rose, are you flirting with me?"
"I think I might be, Captain Cushing," she answered, and bent her head towards me. My lips met hers and we kissed, lightly at first, but then more passionately. I moved closer to her, putting my arms around her, but anything which might have happened thereafter died aborning as an angry voice split the air.
"Captain Cushing!!"
Guiltily, I jumped back, Audrey giggling slightly as I did, and turned towards the voice. One of the more formidable members of the Moncreif staff, was bearing down on us, looking purposeful. She reminded me of my old drill sergeant from basic training.
"What on earth do you think you're doing, Captain?" she demanded.
I bit back the obvious retort, pulled myself up to my full six feet, and looked her in the eye.
"I'm getting a breath of fresh air, Nurse Joseph," I answered, as innocently as I could manage, stepping forward and gently pushing Audrey behind me.
"Who gave you permission to leave your room?"
"I didn't realise I needed permission," I replied.
"We've talked about this before, Captain. If you want to go outside, call one of the nurses, and they will help you."
"Actually, I don't think that I need any more help," I answered, and walked towards her, managing to do a pretty creditable job of hiding even the residual stiffness as I walked, "in fact, I'm considering checking myself out. I'm sure you'd be happy to reassign my room to someone who needs it more than I do."
She looked at me with a mixture of annoyance and surprise.
"And who is this young lady?"
"This is Lieutenant Rose. She came to visit me today."
"So I can see," she answered, looking thoroughly disapproving, "come with me, Captain, and we will discuss this."
I glanced back at Audrey, but received no help from that quarter. Instead, she just indicated for me to go with Nurse Joseph. With a sigh I turned back towards the house.
"As you wish, nurse," I said, resigned, and falling into step beside her we walked back towards the house.
"That's better," she replied, slightly mollified.
Once inside, she escorted me back to my room and then departed. Moments later, Audrey's head appeared at the window.
"You were a bloody load of help," I said, grumpily.
"You know how it is. Immovable object...irresistible force. But don't worry, I'll be back."
And with that she disappeared again, and I heard her footsteps retreating along the patio. About an hour later, the door opened again, and Nurse Joseph came in followed by Doctor Matthews. It was the first time I'd seen him since I'd left Northolt.
"How are you feeling, Captain?" he asked, pulling up a chair.
"Well enough to get back to work," I answered.
"I'm not sure if I can authorise that, but why don't we head for the gym, and you can show me how you're doing. Then, I may consider it."
It was a start, so I complied without arguing. I rejected the offer of crutches, instead following him down the corridor under my own steam. There he started putting me through my paces, gently at first but building up until I realised I would actually have to work. After about forty minutes, he called a halt, and much to my chagrin, I was pleased when he did. I was much more out of breath than I would have expected, and I had to admit that I ached, although at least the hurts were due to the workout, rather than any residual pain. It didn't help that he sat in silence, making notes in my file and occasionally looking up at me, before he finally spoke.
"Well, well."
"Well what?"
"I wouldn't have credited the possibility that I'd be saying this yet, especially with that leg injury, but I'm willing to sign you off as fit for duty. However, I imagine it will be a couple of weeks until your new posting is arranged. No one was expecting that you'd recover this quickly. Do you have somewhere where you can take a couple of weeks' leave?"
"I have a place up in town, or I could go to the family home in Kent."
"Kent might be better. More relaxing. You still need to work on recovering your strength in the leg, but I have to admit that walks in the countryside are going to do you more good than staying here. Is there someone who can keep an eye on you? I wouldn't want you to have a relapse with nobody around to help you."
"I can arrange for someone. If nothing else, there are the estate staff."
"Then you're free to go. Nurse Joseph, will you arrange for the Captain's discharge papers?"
"Of course, Doctor," she answered, with as much grace as she could muster, and stalked out of the gym door.
An hour later, my few possessions were packed up, and I was in the entrance hall, waiting for a lift to the nearest station. I'd been told that one of the gardeners would be bringing around a pony and trap, but instead a small roadster in British racing green pulled up in the carriage porch.
"Can I take you somewhere, Captain?" Audrey asked as she turned off the engine and looked at me.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," I answered, and walked down the three stairs to the car. By the door I paused and looked back at the entrance hall, where the nursing staff had assembled, no doubt so they could toast my departure as soon as I was safely out of sight. Then I turned back to the car, threw my pack in the back, opened the door and sat down beside her. She kissed me lightly on the cheek, turned on the engine and set off down the drive.
"How on earth did you arrange for petrol for a private car?"
"Oh, I know a few people," she answered, lightly, "so where are we headed?"
"Ultimately, Tenterden."
"The family pile, eh?"
"That's the plan. But the station will be fine. From there I can get a train easily enough."
"Nonsense," she answered, "I was heading that way anyway. I'll give you a lift."
"You were going to Kent?"
"I was on my way to see family there when I decided to stop off and visit you. So it's all worked out rather well, don't you think?"
I found myself at a loss for words, and couldn't lay to rest a sneaking suspicion that somehow she had arranged everything before she even arrived at Moncreif House. But for the life of me I had no idea why. What did she possibly have to gain by deceiving me?
"Now settle back and enjoy the ride," she commented, and turned onto the main road.
I did as I was bid, relaxing back into the leather upholstery of the car, warmed by the July sun. Moreover, Audrey was a good driver, so the ride was a delight. Soon the combination of the sun and the sound of wheels on tarmac had the inevitable effect, and I dozed off. However, a short while later the nightmares started invading my reverie, and I was back in Gestapo headquarters. Ritter and his men dragged me to the interrogation room, but this time, as his men laid into me, he wasn't asking any questions. He was just watching, an amused expression on his face, as if I was his Sunday afternoon entertainment. I sagged to my knees and was pushed to the ground, where I landed on my side. Then Ritter kicked me in the ribs until they broke, apparently for the sheer Hell of it. I tried not to scream, but the pain was too much, and I ended up just lying there, whimpering like an injured dog. As I did, Ritter stepped back, laughing.
I was brought back to consciousness by a sharp slap to my face and opened my eyes, but my vision was blurred and I was still whimpering. I could feel cool hands either side of my face, holding me in a firm grip, and my breath was coming in gasps. My initial thought was panic, and then I heard a quiet, reassuring voice.
"Shh...Ian...shh...don't worry. It was just a dream. You're safe now."
I focused, until I was looking up into a pair of warm, blue eyes, and then my vision expanded to see Audrey looking at me, her face a picture of concern. It still took me a good minute or so to get my breathing under control, but all the while she was murmuring reassurances, and slowly the tension drained out of me once more.
"I am so sorry," I said, quietly, pulling out of her gentle grip and feeling deeply embarrassed at showing such weakness in front of a relative stranger.
"Why on earth do you need to apologise?"
"Embarrassing myself like that. Embarrassing you."
"I'm not embarrassed, and neither should you be," she replied, "I don't know exactly what you went through in Berlin, but I can make some guesses, and when all is said and done, it was less than two months ago, so you're bound to sill be feeling the effects. As I said back at Moncreif House, I want to help you."
"Why?" I replied, suddenly angry. Maybe because I didn't likes seeming so vulnerable in front of someone I hardly knew.
"Excuse me?"
"Why...why do you want to help me? It's not as if you know me. We've only met twice. Why are you doing this?"
She looked at me in surprise at my harsh tone and her face fell. My anger drained away leaving me feeling guilty and uncomfortable, and I had the distinct impression of a kicked puppy.
"I probably deserved that," she said, finally, "you have no reason to trust me...or anyone else, given what's happened to you."
"I'd like to trust you," I said, trying to sound conciliatory, "but at the moment I don't understand what's going on."
"Why don't we go inside, and maybe we can talk?" she suggested, and opened the car door. I did the same, and as I stood up, I realised that we were under the carriage porch at Wittersham House, the Cushing family home. Waiting for us by the door was Carmichael, the butler and general factotum.
"Welcome home, Master Ian," he said, exhibiting the polite blindness to the scene in the car which all good servants seem to have down pat, "I'm glad to see you safe and well."
"Thank you Carmichael," I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, "is anyone else here at the moment?"
"Sir Albert and Lady Henrietta are resident, but they're out for the afternoon. Lady Margaret is up in town."
"Thank you. Lt Rose and I will be taking tea in the library, if you would be so kind as to arrange it."
"Of course, sir," he answered, and after closing the door behind us he walked briskly in the direction of the kitchen, while I escorted Audrey to the library. I sat down in front of one of the big leather chairs in front of the fireplace - filled with a huge vase of flowers at that time of the year - and indicated for Audrey to do the same.
"How much do you remember of the plane journey from Berlin?"
"Not a great deal. I seem to think I slept most of the way."
"Do you remember having the dreams?"
"Not really. They started after I'd been in the hospital for a few days, but it's since I moved to Moncrief House that they've really been bothering me."
"Probably because you were on a lot more medication before. I understand that it was necessary to keep you sedated when you were first recovering."
"And back to 'I understand' again," I snapped, "you know far too much about me. Hell, I didn't actually give you this address, and yet here we are."
I broke off as Carmichael came in with a tray full of tea and coffee, and placed it on the table beside us.
"Will there be anything else, sir?"
"No. That's fine, thank you," I answered, and he politely left us to our own devices. I poured myself a coffee, and looked up at Audrey to see what she wanted. She indicated the teapot, so I poured her a cup and left her to doctor it with milk and sugar as she wished. Then, once we had both sat back in our chairs, I asked her the question I most wanted the answer to.
"Why are you spying on me?"
"I prefer to think of it as taking an interest in your wellbeing," she replied, "it started when I spoke with Major Rathbone when he first came to the Embassy to protest what had happened to you, trying to enlist the Embassy's help. Inevitably the rumours that a British officer had been taken from his quarters in the delegation's apartment block had started doing the rounds, but the Nazi bureaucracy did a superb job of stonewalling and denying all knowledge. Even the Major's testimony was called into question, because when it came down to it, he never actually saw you being arrested. And I must confess, my curiosity was piqued."
"Your curiosity was piqued?"
"Yes. Why you? Why had you been arrested? And more to the point, why had you been arrested by Kasimir Ritter?"
"What's so special about Ritter?"
"How much do you know about the occult?"
"Not much, beyond the obvious bollocks to do with witchcraft and demon summoning. I've heard some stories... occasionally read books which touched on the subject."
I'd almost swear she was disappointed, although the only sign she made was a sigh.
"There's a lot more to it than that," she said, finally, "however, for the purposes of this conversation, let's start with the fact that Hitler both believed in the occult and was a very skilled practitioner. After his death, others took up the arcane mantle to continue finding ways how it might be used against Britain and her allies, and later against Russia, and one of those was Kasimir Ritter."
"Ritter's a witch?"
"And a black one at that. In fact, if you think about it, the very name he's using reflects that: Ritter, obviously knight or sir; Kasimir, made up of to destroy and either great or peace, depending on the reading. Great destroyer fits him, don't you think. So why did he want you?"
"I don't know if it was anything to do with him wanting me in particular. I did some things which were perhaps ill-advised, even if they were necessary, and I was arrested for them. I always knew that I was running the risk of being taken by the Gestapo, but that didn't stop what I was doing being right."
"But Ritter isn't Gestapo," she answered, "he's an officer in the Ahnenerbe Forschungs und Lehrgemeinschaft."
"The Ancestral Heritage loonies?"
"They're only loonies if it doesn't work."
I looked at her for a few moments, feeling decidedly petulant.
"He certainly acted like a Gestapo interrogator," I said, flatly.
"He probably would. That's what he was before he was recruited to other things."
"So your curiosity was piqued?"
"I started trying to find out everything I could about you. What it was about you that made him interested in you."
"And did you come to any conclusions?"
"The only thing that flagged up as unusual was your father."
"I never knew my father. He was gone before I was born."
"Exactly. And when I tried to find out any more about him, I pretty much came up against a dead end. It was if he didn't exist, and never had."
"Fascinating, but rather on the fantastical side. After all, I exist, so he must do. Honestly, I still think it's more likely that Ritter was assigned to my case because of what I'd been doing. The questions he was asking focused on that, and also on some stuff I did before I ever came to Berlin. Maybe everyone else was busy and he was drafted in to help."
She looked at me and sighed. "If that's what you want to believe," she said, obviously disappointed this time.
"It makes more sense than witches," I answered, firmly.
"As you wish. Anyway...where was I? I was interested in finding out more about you, and so I did some digging. Language specialist. Musician. Proved yourself at Dunkirk. Drafted into the SOE sight-unseen, trained and sent to Europe, with the implication that your hands weren't entirely clean with regard to Hitler's assassination. And everything you did, you seemed to excel at. And to top it all, you were cute with it, if the picture in your file did you justice."
"Did it?"
"Not really...you're much better looking in person," she answered, with a wicked grin, and I felt myself blush. She smiled, and then carried on talking. "Anyway, I spent a while co-ordinating with Major Rathbone, who was pretty much the only other person who continued pleading your corner when it became obvious that High Command just weren't going to let you go, and we eventually came up with the fact that you'd struck up a friendship with Dr Wilhelm Stuckart. By then, for reasons I'm not going to go into, I was getting very concerned for your safety, and Rathbone and I came to the conclusion that we were on a tight schedule. He offered to go and speak to Stuckart, and the following morning, the man himself came into the Embassy and offered to help. I think I covered the rest when we first met."
"So why the continued interest in my wellbeing?"
"One. If Ritter has set his sights on you for any reason other than just wanting to know what you did with the SOE and whatever it was you got messed up with in Berlin - those details haven't made it into your file yet, by the way, although I can make some guesses from the fact that he was referring to you as 'the Jew lover' when he was arguing with Oberführer Alstötter - then the fact that you were rescued before he could kill you means that I wouldn't put it past him to try again. He's not a man who likes to lose."
"But he's in Berlin and I'm not planning to go back there any time soon."
"That won't necessarily stop him," she replied, "he has the reputation for finishing what he started. I know a group of people who are willing to help you learn how to protect yourself against him, if you're willing to be taught."
"And...?"
"And two. I'd like to get to know you better. As I said, the picture in your file doesn't do you justice: in person there's something...more about you. And unless I misunderstood what was happening back at Moncreif, I have the impression that you want to get to know me better as well."
"Perhaps I've just fixed on you as the woman who saved my life?" I pointed out.
"Perhaps...but you don't really believe that, do you?"
"Right now, I'm not sure what to believe."
"Still, hopefully you now understand why I want to help you."
"Not really, but I guess it'll make sense eventually," I answered, grudgingly, "but what can you do to stop the nightmares?"
"Remember I mentioned the plane."
"Yes."
"I helped you sleep back then. What I propose to do is use the same technique to help you overcome your nightmares, so that they don't control you any more."
"How?"
"Please don't laugh."
"I'm definitely not inclined to do that."
"Good. Then I'd like to try hypnotherapy on you."
"What, like those music hall acts? Making people run about like dogs or moo like cows?"
"Extreme version of the technique, but yes. Are you willing to let me try?"
"Why not...drugs haven't worked. Trying to ignore it hasn't worked. If you think you can do something about it, then I'm happy to try anything, however crack-pot it sounds."
"I hoped you'd say that...minus the crack-pot bit, of course."
"So what do I do?"
"First, make yourself comfortable. Turn the chair slightly away from the window, and look at me."
As I did, she grabbed one of the wooden chairs from the reading table, and put it down beside me, and then got a ring out of her pocket and slipped it onto the middle finger of her left hand. She turned the bevel inwards and then raised her hand in front of my eyes. I could see that the ring comprised a deep blue sapphire with a star-like light at its heart, held in mount of a Celtic knot work design.
"This is going to seem very strange to you, but I want to put you into a trance. I know you can do it - it's effectively what I did to you on the plane, although you were so tired and hurt on that occasion that you would probably have been receptive to anything that took the pain away."
"Okay," I said, fascinated if still somewhat sceptical.
"Good...now stare at the ring and listen to my voice. Nothing else matters. Just the ring and my voice.
I did as I was bid, watching the star flashing at the gem's heart and listening to the quiet, patient voice beside me, and soon felt a warm lethargy flow through my body from head to toe. In the background, I was became aware of her presence in my mind, and despite initial reservations, I realised that found it somewhat comforting.
"Good...relax...and begin to remember what happened to you."
I didn't want to remember, but as she spoke my memories came flooding in. I heard her gasp, but then she continued the comforting litany, and as she did, I began to feel a change. It was as if I was beginning to feel detached from the memories: watching them, rather than being the subject of them. And through it all, the starlight was acting as a guide, a beacon, anchored by her voice. I have no idea how long we sat like that, but eventually the memories faded, and I could again see the ring on her finger, rather than the star in my mind. Then she gently pulled me back out of the trance, and we were once again sitting in the library at Wittersham House. I shivered, feeling cold to the bone, and looked at her. She seemed pale and drawn, and her expression was pensive.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
"What you went through..." she began, her usual composure gone, "despite having seen you in Berlin, I hadn't realised just how bad it was. Can you give me a few moments."
I poured her a cup of rather cold but sugary and milky tea, which she took thankfully and downed in one. Afterwards, she seemed more her normal self.
"Well that was interesting," she said, finally, "you've never done anything like that before?"
"No. Why should I have?"
"You seem to have a natural affinity for the Work," she answered, but the comment went over my head, "that's remarkably rare, but it also would go a long way to explaining Ritter's interest in you, if he'd somehow found out."
"What does that even mean?"
"That's a conversation for another day," she answered, firmly, and I had the distinct impression that there was no point pressing the question further.
"So what were you doing just now. Reading my mind?"
"Not exactly. But after seen what you had to go through, truth be told, I'm amazed at how well you've coped."
"You call screaming nightmares coping well?"
"They haven't driven you crazy," she answered, "and hopefully, now you'll recover more...gently. I've tried to ease the memories. Not taken them away...that would be very dangerous...but tried to fade them, as if they were much longer ago. I've also set a trigger so that if you get the dreams again, say the words of the trigger - you'll remember them if you need them - and you'll be able to detach yourself from what's happening. They won't seem like your memories, and the pain won't be as bad. How do you feel?"
"Cold."
"Not really surprising. However, it does mean that I should probably be going. You may not realise it, but you need to rest. The Work can be tiring, both for subject and practitioner."
"But I have questions."
"And believe me, Ian, I'll make sure you get answers...but not today."
And with that, she got carefully to her feet. I stood with her, and looked at her, meeting her sapphire blue eyes - the same colour as the ring she had worn, I now realised.
"Are you sure you won't stay?" I asked.
"No. I need to be getting home. My father will be wondering where I am. I was supposed to be home for tea." And with that, she began walking to the door. I accompanied her out into the hall and across to the front door where she paused and looked up at me. "I promise I'll be in touch," she said, firmly.
"When?"
"Probably in a couple of days. You need to recover...and get some decent sleep. And I need to talk to some people. But never fear. You don't get rid of me that easily."
And with that, she raised herself up on her toes, and planted a kiss on my cheek.
"Captain Cushing. You are by far the most interesting person I've come across in quite some time."
"And you, Lieutenant Rose, are by far the most intriguing woman I have ever met."
She smiled broadly, and then turned and headed down the steps to her car. She opened the door, slipped behind the wheel and started the engine.
"See you very soon, Ian."
"Not soon enough," I answered, and she flashed a last, stunning smile. Then she gunned the engine and set off down the drive. As I had in the hospital, I watched her go, before turning back into the house. Carmichael was standing at the door to the library, holding the used tea tray.
"Is everything alright, sir?"
"Carmichael, I think I'm in love," I answered, almost before I realised what I was saying.
"Very good sir," he said, his face as implacable as ever, but as he headed back towards the servant's areas I thought I detected the trace of a smile on his lips.
That night I slept the best I had for over two months, and while a certain face still haunted my dreams, it most certainly wasn't that of Kasimir Ritter.