"What is that?" I ask. "Telephone" doesn't even enter my mind as a possibility, as it doesn't sound like any telephone I've ever heard before. I have no intention of investigating, however. I'm not letting go of John this time. Not for a second, when I'm so afraid he might slip away if I do. It's my fault he's hurt, but I won't let him down again.

Not that I have so much faith in anyone else. I can't help but feel a little bit like I'm back in my cell in le Chateau des Bourreaux, waiting for RAF bombs that never landed. I don't think anyone is going to save me this time, either, but I don't share that at all. Lying seems like a much better idea.

"Right. Help ought to be along soon." I squeeze John's hand and hope he believes me. I might be a good liar, but he's equally good at seeing right through me.