He gazed down at her now as they approached the hospital. Here, well out of range of the hostage-takers, lights were permitted on the roads and he could clearly see her features.

Her jet-black curls were still cut into that elfin style he’d loved, tendrils clinging to her face, making her Audrey Hepburn type features seem even lovelier than he remembered. But this was a new Lily, a battered Lily. There was nothing elegant about the bloodstained jeans and T-shirt and theatre over-gown she was wearing. Dark smudges marred her lovely eyes. There was a scratch across her cheek and she’d bled a little. She looked like…like…

Lily.

Why had he let her go?

That was a dumb question. There had never been any thought of staying together, he remembered. They each had their own path in life and they hadn’t coincided.

‘Ben,’ she managed, rousing a little as he reached the entrance to the field hospital. He kicked aside a canvas barrier and found a stretcher-bed. He set her down and her eyes widened as if she’d suddenly remembered she had to do something. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

‘You can,’ he said. ‘You have to rest. It’s OK.’

‘It’s not OK.’ She tried to sit up, and as he gently guided her back on the pillows she shoved her hands against his chest and pushed. ‘I need to-’

‘You need to sleep, Lily,’ he said firmly. ‘You’ve worked for thirty-six hours or more without a rest. You’re exhausted past the point of collapse.’

‘I must.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Then will you do it for me?’ she said wildly. ‘Please…Find…Ben.’

He’d thought she’d been talking about her son. What was she talking about now? ‘I’m here,’ he said, but she was staring straight through him.

‘Please.’

‘I’ll look for your son,’ he told her, figuring she was verging on the delirious. ‘I’ll have the men start a search. Tell me about him. How old is he?’

She was focusing on the point where the canvas had been pulled aside to form a door, as if she was expecting any minute that someone would appear.