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‘It’s bigger than Beaune. Touristy. Lots of small streets that easily confuse the tourists.’
‘But we’re… not local.’
‘No. We’ll figure it out. We have time. You can heal and we can… see the sights.’
The reluctant waiter had returned with two huge crepes. Sarah’s taste buds salivated as the smell of cheese, mushrooms and herbs folded into the thin, brown crepe hit her. She cut off a corner and impatiently blew on the steaming piece.
‘Are we close to the center of town?’ She asked to distract herself a moment longer and avoid burning her tongue.
‘Pretty much. The main square is a few blocks away. They have lots of shops for clothes and things in that area.’
They both succumbed to the food, with little conversation taking place for the next ten minutes. Sarah was surprised how filling the crepe was and she struggled to finish the entire plate, almost. She drained the last of her coffee while Alex went to pay.
Pushing back her chair, she gripped either side of the iron table to help herself stand. The now familiar sensation of skin stretching further than it was meant to slowed her efforts. She noticed that every grimace and sharp intake of breath seemed to heighten Alex’s sense of guilt over her getting shot.
‘You okay? It’s not far to walk.’ Alex was at her side, anxiety riddled across his face.
‘I’m fine,’ she forced a smile. ‘Need to stretch my legs.’
The cobblestone streets looked deceptively like pavements. A zooming car would abruptly remind pedestrians not to dawdle. Alex put his arm around Sarah, pulling her injured side protectively into him. They kept their pace slow and steady, like tourists with all the time in the world.
Alex gestured to a side street on the right as they approached. ‘The main square and shopping district is that way. We can check it out when you feel up to it.’
‘Okay.’
After seven or eight-minutes, Alex steered them towards a laneway on the left. It was much quieter, obviously a residential area without any shops or map-carrying tourists. Away from the cafes and restaurants, the air smelt clean. The buildings stood three stories tall on either side of the street. Their flat facades were punctuated by the front door and narrow windows covered by black grills on each floor. Faded blue, green and orange paint differentiated individual apartments.
The jiggling of keys heralded their arrival at their new lodgings. A solid wooden door was painted black to match the grills. Blue paint was washed almost gray against the exterior plaster. Two small steps led up to the now open door, revealing a narrow staircase disappearing into fading light. There didn’t appear to be any rooms on the bottom floor. Alex took her hand and led her inside, pausing to pull the door closed and lock it behind them. They made their way slowly up the stairs and Sarah was glad to be able to steady herself against the wall as she ascended.
The stairs came to a landing and a door opened onto a living area large enough to hold a two-seater sofa and a coffee table. A small television sat on a low entertainment unit. Parents with their arms around a teenage boy and girl smiled out of a frame that sat gathering dust beside the television. A bookcase laden with paperbacks stood next to the window overlooking the street. The living and kitchen areas were separated by a tall bench with two stools. A musty smell permeated the entire apartment, as though it had been closed up for a while.
‘The bedroom and bathroom are on the next floor.’ Alex was peering out the window.
Sarah silently eased herself onto the sofa. She’d felt every step on her way up and she needed to be still for a while. The memory of her stitches ripping had left a physical imprint. Her eyelids closed without a fight.
‘I’ll get you some water. It’s time for your antibiotics.’ Alex was at the kitchen sink in five strides. Sarah heard cupboards open and close and finally the swish of water as it ran from the tap.
She sensed Alex was kneeling beside her but waited a beat before opening her eyes. He held the glass of water and a tablet in front of her. She held his gaze as she swallowed with a measured gulp.
‘What happened that night?’
The question appeared to take Alex by surprise. He placed the glass on the coffee table and then shifted to sit in front of her.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I heard gunshots. At the house and at the church. Was I the only person who got shot?’
He seemed to be considering his answer.
‘There were three of them. Two headed for the back of the cottage, which is where I left them.’ He had been staring at the sofa. Now he lifted his face to look at Sarah.
‘The one that came in the front, he’s the one that followed you. He shot you.’
She waited.
‘You did good. You outran him. He didn’t know you were under the hedge.’
‘How did you know?’
