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Authors: Barbara Cleverly
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nibble with their champagne, Joe noticed. She must have brought it with her from the
cake shop, he thought, as there had been no such confection on offer in the director’s office.
They watched as she snapped it in two, releasing a seductive scent of vanilla and a cloud of icing-sugar, and, murmuring, offered half to Thibaud. Joe felt Varimont, standing close by him, tense
as his patient turned his head slightly. He allowed her to open his hand and then close it again over the biscuit. Dorcas carefully moved his hand towards his mouth and he began to eat. Having
swallowed the first half, he opened his hand and stretched it out. Dorcas gave him the second half and he crunched his way through that too, to her evident satisfaction. When he’d finished,
she tenderly whisked a crumb from his chin, crooning to him in a language Joe had not heard before.
And then Joe heard the doctor gasp in surprise. Thibaud turned to her and looked at her as though he saw her at last and he smiled. A smile of utter sweetness and childlike pleasure. And,
swallowing his emotion, Joe acknowledged that of the many smiles that would be directed at Dorcas in the coming years, this was the one above all she would remember. A hand came out again,
hesitantly, and reached for her shiny black head. He stroked her hair gently twice.
Standing once again outside Thibaud’s room, Joe detained the director before he could lock the door. ‘A moment, sir. That was all very interesting and involving
but in no way does our encounter begin to address the problem of your patient’s nationality. I wonder, would you permit me . . .?’
He outlined his plan and the director nodded in agreement. ‘Can’t do any harm and may tell us something. Carry on, Commander.’
Joe opened the door again and checked that the man had, as expected, settled back into his slumped posture, sideways on the bed, face turned away from the door.
In a loud and convincing rendering of an English sergeant major’s voice, he barked out an order.
‘Atte-e-e-nSHUN! On your feet, laddie! Stand by your bed!’ More parade ground commands followed and each was received blankly, with not the slightest twitch of a muscle. Joe went to
stand directly in front of him and snapped off a smart salute. ‘Reporting for duty, SIR!’ This time the voice was that of an officer. Impossible for a trained soldier of any rank not to
offer the reciprocal salute.
Not one joint of one finger moved in response. Joe looked keenly at the man’s features, awake to the slightest shifting expression.
And, finally, Joe’s efforts were rewarded. At last the face began to twitch. His nostrils flared. His upper lip trembled. His mouth opened. Thibaud gave a wide yawn, collapsed on to his
bed and pulled the blanket over his head.
Chapter Seven
Joe waited until he was navigating his course with certainty back across the city before he spoke to Dorcas.
‘So – the doctor’s efforts “will have been worth it” eh? And where, pray, did you learn to juggle the future perfect tense with such confidence, miss?’
He was aware that his question sounded ponderous but he was keen to hear her answer.
She left a silence just long enough to reprove him for his condescension. ‘Well, it could have been – if I’m allowed to use a conditional perfect without incurring
disapproval – in the stables of the Vicomte de Montcalme last year. Indeed, I do remember now that it was.’
‘Oooh! Hoity-toity! If you’re going to talk to me like an offended duchess – or worse, her lady’s maid – I’m going to throw you out on to the cobbles right
now. Are you going to elaborate on that throwaway remark?’
‘I don’t know where you get your information about me but you must have noticed that my father is a gentleman. He may well be a painter and an English eccentric but I can tell you
that these qualities make him very acceptable to aristocratic or rich people who live in the south. He can paint in
cake shop, he thought, as there had been no such confection on offer in the director’s office.
They watched as she snapped it in two, releasing a seductive scent of vanilla and a cloud of icing-sugar, and, murmuring, offered half to Thibaud. Joe felt Varimont, standing close by him, tense
as his patient turned his head slightly. He allowed her to open his hand and then close it again over the biscuit. Dorcas carefully moved his hand towards his mouth and he began to eat. Having
swallowed the first half, he opened his hand and stretched it out. Dorcas gave him the second half and he crunched his way through that too, to her evident satisfaction. When he’d finished,
she tenderly whisked a crumb from his chin, crooning to him in a language Joe had not heard before.
And then Joe heard the doctor gasp in surprise. Thibaud turned to her and looked at her as though he saw her at last and he smiled. A smile of utter sweetness and childlike pleasure. And,
swallowing his emotion, Joe acknowledged that of the many smiles that would be directed at Dorcas in the coming years, this was the one above all she would remember. A hand came out again,
hesitantly, and reached for her shiny black head. He stroked her hair gently twice.
Standing once again outside Thibaud’s room, Joe detained the director before he could lock the door. ‘A moment, sir. That was all very interesting and involving
but in no way does our encounter begin to address the problem of your patient’s nationality. I wonder, would you permit me . . .?’
He outlined his plan and the director nodded in agreement. ‘Can’t do any harm and may tell us something. Carry on, Commander.’
Joe opened the door again and checked that the man had, as expected, settled back into his slumped posture, sideways on the bed, face turned away from the door.
In a loud and convincing rendering of an English sergeant major’s voice, he barked out an order.
‘Atte-e-e-nSHUN! On your feet, laddie! Stand by your bed!’ More parade ground commands followed and each was received blankly, with not the slightest twitch of a muscle. Joe went to
stand directly in front of him and snapped off a smart salute. ‘Reporting for duty, SIR!’ This time the voice was that of an officer. Impossible for a trained soldier of any rank not to
offer the reciprocal salute.
Not one joint of one finger moved in response. Joe looked keenly at the man’s features, awake to the slightest shifting expression.
And, finally, Joe’s efforts were rewarded. At last the face began to twitch. His nostrils flared. His upper lip trembled. His mouth opened. Thibaud gave a wide yawn, collapsed on to his
bed and pulled the blanket over his head.
Chapter Seven
Joe waited until he was navigating his course with certainty back across the city before he spoke to Dorcas.
‘So – the doctor’s efforts “will have been worth it” eh? And where, pray, did you learn to juggle the future perfect tense with such confidence, miss?’
He was aware that his question sounded ponderous but he was keen to hear her answer.
She left a silence just long enough to reprove him for his condescension. ‘Well, it could have been – if I’m allowed to use a conditional perfect without incurring
disapproval – in the stables of the Vicomte de Montcalme last year. Indeed, I do remember now that it was.’
‘Oooh! Hoity-toity! If you’re going to talk to me like an offended duchess – or worse, her lady’s maid – I’m going to throw you out on to the cobbles right
now. Are you going to elaborate on that throwaway remark?’
‘I don’t know where you get your information about me but you must have noticed that my father is a gentleman. He may well be a painter and an English eccentric but I can tell you
that these qualities make him very acceptable to aristocratic or rich people who live in the south. He can paint in
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