She was hurt. Maybe she was in hospital. The voice spoke again and she frowned. She’d thought at first that she hadn’t heard him properly because of the heavy pound of her pulse and her dull stuffed-with-cotton head. Now she realised there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite grasp.
‘Bene, bene. Sei sveglia.’
She frowned, then regretted it as even that movement sharpened the ache.
‘I...’ She swiped her mouth with a tongue that felt swollen and clumsy. ‘Am I in hospital?’ she whispered. Every syllable took effort.
‘Not hospital,’ a heavily accented voice replied. ‘You’re in Signor Ricci’s home. He brought you up from the beach.’
Slowly she digested that. One word at a time.
She’d been on a beach. She was hurt. Someone had brought her to a house. Her breath exhaled in a fractured rush. ‘Thank you.’
‘Can you open your eyes?’
Her mouth twisted. Was she ready for more pain? But lying indefinitely in the dark was no real option.
She slitted her eyes open, hissing in a breath at the assault of light. But after a few seconds it got better, almost bearable.
She caught movement and her gaze focused on a thin man with a worn face and kind brown eyes.
‘Bene. Bene.’
That was what he’d said before. It sounded familiar but as soon as she grasped at it the sense of familiarity faded.
‘What...’ She swallowed hard. ‘What are you saying?’
For a second she caught concern on his face. But then it seemed she’d imagined it. He smiled and something inside her eased. ‘Just that you’re doing very well.’
A laugh escaped her dry throat. A chuckle more than a laugh and even that was cut short by a shaft of pain. ‘I’d hate...’ Her words trailed off, then his hand took hers again and she roused. ‘Hate to seepoorlyif this isvery well.’
‘You’re safe,’ he reassured her and he sounded so certain she believed him. Or maybe she didn’t have the energy not to. ‘You’ll be looked after. But first I need to examine you properly.’
The next time she woke the light wasn’t so bright and the doctor wasn’t there. She was alone in the dimly lit room and didn’t know whether to be glad or worried. Her head ached but not so sharply. Nevertheless, she wasn’t eager to move. She closed her eyes again, cataloguing how she felt.
Something hovered at the edge of her consciousness. Something disturbing. But that fuzzy feeling was a convenient reason to ignore it for now.
When she felt stronger she’d face whatever it was.
That rushing sound was still there, louder this time. After a while she recognised it as the wind tearing fast around the building. Occasionally it built to a buffeting surge and unease tugged at her. If the weather was this bad she needed to go outside and check on...
But the thought slid away half-formed.
A frown bunched her forehead. What was it she had to do? Why was it so urgent? Something that was her responsibility. Something important.
Whatever it was, it would have to wait. She couldn’t pin down the details. Besides, she wasn’t sure she had the energy to get up.
Experimentally she lifted one hand and discovered it had become a leaden weight.
At least it moves. At least it’s not broken.
Instinctively she lifted her other hand, then twitched her feet, just enough to be sure they’d respond to her mental command. Relief rose.
The doctor had said there was no sign of spinal injury, she recollected now.
Instantly she felt better, remembering that worn face and his genial expression. He’d been gentle but professionally brisk, reassuring her that she’d feel better with sleep. A sigh escaped and she turned her head on the soft pillow.
This was incredibly comfortable for a hospital bed. Still with her eyes closed, she swiped her hand across the mattress. Then one foot. This was no single bed.