After Françoise left, I lay back and relaxed thinking about the past, the future, everything.

Having such an in depth conversation with Jemima had made me realise how uncertain life is.

“Hey Kiddo!” I almost jumped out of my skin at the sudden and unexpectedly cheerful greeting. “How ya doin'?”

“Doctor Harlow! You scared me half to death!” I admonished the suave middle aged man standing in the doorway.

“Aww, hey, shorry shweetheart,” he replied, putting on his best Humphrey Bogart impression.

I couldn't help but smile. Doctor Harlow was like a bright ray of sunshine that lifted even the heaviest of hearts.

“Don't worry,” I replied with a light chuckle. “I think I must have been half asleep.”

“I just came over to check up on you,” he continued in his own voice. “It is quiet in my area.”

“That is very good of you,” I smiled sweetly at him, “I am fine thank you. I've been very careful and no more burst stitches.”

He frowned momentarily.

“Oh, sutures! That is good then but how are you in yourself?” I noticed he wasn't smiling now. In fact he had a slight look of concern on his face.

“I'm okay I suppose. A little scared maybe.”

He looked around, spotted the chair in the corner of the room and moved towards it.

“I have a few minutes if you would like to talk,” a pause, “In confidence of course,” he added.

“No, I'm okay,” I repeated, “Just a little afraid of the unknown, of what will happen in the future.”

He pulled up the chair to my bedside and sat down on it, backwards, resting his arms on what should have been the chair back.

“That is quite normal after the experience you have had these past few days.” Once again he was smiling. “I have a lot of experience with post traumatic cases. I learned my profession on the battlefields, both in the field and also in hospitals back home. I saw young men who had gone to war full of bravado and thinking they were going to kick Jerry's ass, their lives set out for the future only to return home, their dreams shattered and their futures uncertain.”

“I suppose that is what I feel,” I replied. “My life was running very nicely thank you. I thought it would go on that way until I retired.”

“Sweetie, we all think that way until something comes along to shatter the equilibrium. The answer is to be strong and mount each challenge as it comes along. Do you believe in fate, Karen?”

That last bit threw me.

“No, not really,” I answered him, “Why?”

“Because I do,” he replied. “I believe that everything that happens, happens for a reason. Those reasons are not always obvious at the time but later, when you think back maybe you will see there is a purpose that has put you here now.”

I looked at him, puzzled.

“Are you a Doctor or a philosopher?” I asked him.

He smiled.

“A bit of both I guess.”

“Why are you here?” I was curious now.

“Have you forgotten so soon?” he replied. “I am on an exchange programme with...”

“No, I know that,” I interrupted him. “I mean here, now, with me.”

“As I said,” he insisted, “I just came to see how you were getting on.”

“Yes, you said.” My mind was in overdrive now, “But there is something else, more than just my leg.”

“Okay, Sherlock, ya got me,” he laughed, then more seriously, “Matron Blanchard asked me to drop by.”

“Françoise? Why?”

Doctor Harlow dropped his gaze for a moment then looked up at me again.

“She is a little worried about you. She overheard some of your conversation with your friend tonight and thinks you may be a little, erm, overwhelmed? If that is the right word.”

I smiled at him, deciding whether to blurt it all out but, in the end I decided against it.

“She is very sweet but no, I'm okay, really.”

“Well, if you're sure. You can trust me, you know. I'm a doctor,” and he flashed that disarming smile.

“I know and I do but I'm fine. Thank you anyway.”

He reached out and took my hand.

“Okay, well, if you need me for anything at all just ask a nurse and she will find me.”

“Okay Doc, I will,” I replied, using my best interpretation of his American accent that I only knew from watching westerns at the cinema and flashing a smile almost as big as his.

He squeezed my hand.

“I'm serious, Karen. I know you are alone and this is a big thing to face. If you need anything then I...” he paused for a moment, “and Matron Blanchard if you prefer, are here to help you.”

“I know you are and I am very grateful, honestly. If I need anything I will let you know.”

He frowned.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I assured him.

He stood up and put the chair back into the corner.

“You'll be okay, Kid,” he winked. “Now, I must get back. Take care.”

“You too,” I replied and slipped down into the bed, pulling the sheet up to my neck as he left.

“Excuse me, Miss.” The voice came from seat twenty-four.

I went over to the rearmost row, aisle seat.

“May I help you, Sir?” I asked politely.

“My friend here,” the man said, indicating the passenger seated beside him. “I don't think he is well.”

I looked across to the window seat where I saw another man, motionless, his face covered in blood and badly battered. I stepped back, clapping my hand to my mouth in horror!

When I released my mouth I looked down at my hands, they were terrible, the skin was cracked and flaking, like old dry paper. I wanted to scream but couldn't. My throat was so dry.

I bumped into the seat behind me and felt a hand slip quickly up my leg, fingers slipping into the loose leg of my knickers and entering me!

I swung round and saw a beautiful laughing woman.

“Isn't this what you wanted?” she asked, laughing manically.

I opened my mouth to protest but no words came. My heart was pounding with fear and excitement.

The beautiful woman in seat Twenty-five returned her hand to my leg, slowly sliding up the smooth nylon of my stocking until it met the naked flesh of my thigh. She didn't stop but continued until she found the moist, hot petals protecting my now hot and very wet, entrance.

I was trembling now, with a little fear but more with the anticipation of something hitherto unknown.

The beautiful woman's thumb began to gently circle my ever expanding nub, teasing it from its sheath and rolling it around, pressing and flicking whilst the first finger began to enter me.

All the time she was looking up at me, a crazy expression on her face, brilliant white teeth shining in the flickering orange glow.

My breathing was becoming difficult and the blood hissed loudly as it rushed past my eardrums, my heartbeat thumping deafeningly in my ears.

“Don't worry, Karen, I am here to help you.”

A new voice came from behind me, an older voice with a hint of a French accent. At the same time I felt gentle but firms hands grip my upper arms and the flickering touch of soft lips on my neck. I gasped, a thrill shooting through my entire body as my nipples hardened and tingled. I could feel the probing finger between my legs being lubricated from within as my stomach twitched and my back stiffened.

Behind me I felt fingers release the bow of my tie cord which held my night dress together at the back and the cotton garment slipped to the floor leaving me naked but for the loose satin French knickers and stockings and suspender belt.

As those soft, unseen lips gently worked upwards from my neck to my ear and a warm wet tongue began to explore and teeth nipped my lobe, I became aware of hands cupping my breasts, squeezing and pulling my nipples whilst another's fingers began to probe deeply inside me, pressing against the front of my deepest recesses and a thumb still teasing my vibrating clitoris.

I felt hot, very hot and my whole body was burning up with desire.

“Miss, Miss, my friend...” I felt a hand tugging at my arm.

“I will be with you soon, Sir...” I managed to say with great difficulty.

I felt naked flesh against my back, hard pointed nipples pressing into my hot flesh and the tickle of coarse hair against my buttocks.

I pushed back against her body and her firm hands pulled me tightly against her.

“I will take care of you,” she whispered into my ear, her hot breath making me shiver with desire and I let my head fall backwards as her hand moved to my throat, gripping me gently under my chin. Her mouth covered my lips, her tongue insinuating itself between my teeth, exploring my mouth.

I returned the kiss with great eagerness, accepting her willingly.

“Please, Miss...” urgently now.

“Alright George! For goodness sake, I'm coming!”

At that moment everything began to shake and pieces of debris flew about me.

I was thrown violently to the floor and all went black.

I opened my eyes. I was alone and the pain in my leg was excruciating. I was lying on a table, a bright light above was shining down on me.

“Doctor Harlow?” I cried out, “What is happening?”

“Hey, nothing to worry about Kiddo!” he was smiling broadly. “You have torn open your sutures. Can't do 'em again so the leg's got to come off. You have another one, you'll be fine.”

In his hand he held a hacksaw.

“Nooo!” I screamed out, “No, You can't!” and I sat up, trying to fight him off but strong hands held me down and I felt something placed over my nose and mouth, something rubbery and smelling strange. Very slowly I became drowsy, the resistance slipping away as I lay back whimpering.

“Please, Doctor Harlow, please don't take my leg!”

Through what seemed a thick fog I heard the reply, “I'm not going to take your leg, Karen. It's alright now, shhh.”

I felt consciousness slowly ebb and the horrors faded away as I drifted off into a black nothingness.

I woke with a start. All the fears suddenly back in my mind. When I opened my eyes I looked about me. Everything seemed just as it had when Doctor Harlow left except that now, a nurse was sitting in the chair in the corner, reading a book. I realised that my leg didn't hurt now so, with great trepidation and not daring to breathe, I lifted the thin cotton sheet and looked down at my left leg. I saw the thick dressing and followed it downwards, to where my knee should have been!

I breathed out slowly, a deep sense of relief. My leg was still there, just as it always had been.

The nurse in the chair must have heard the bedding rustle as I allowed my head to flop back into the pillow for she looked up from her book and smiled.

“Moment, Mademoiselle,” she said as she stood up and closed her book then, quickly, left the small room.

Minutes later she returned closely followed by Doctor Harlow.

“Hey, You're awake! How do you feel?”

I stared at him, confused for a while until reality began to return and I slowly understood that I had been dreaming.

“It's okay Honey, relax and get your bearings. There's no hurry.”

“I'm sorry,” I replied, “I must have been dreaming but why are you here?”

He smiled that big wide smile of his.

“I guess you don't remember,” he said. “The nurse here called me a couple of hours ago. You were screaming and thrashing about. I guessed you were dreaming and what it was likely to be about. You wouldn't wake up so I had to sedate you before you harmed yourself.”

“Sedate me?” I whispered, scared again.

“Oh, only a little gas to help you relax, nothing heavy.” his gentle voice was so reassuring. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Well, maybe, I don't know. I still feel a little shaky.”

“I have time, you don't have to if you don't want to.” He nodded to the nurse who returned a small nod of understanding and left. “I have a fair idea of what it was about. Want me to guess?”

I nodded assent.

Once more he pulled up the chair and sat backwards upon it.

“Okay, well, my guess is you were reliving the crash and you saw people who had perished.”

“Something like that,” I agreed.

“You also thought you were going to lose your leg, that I was going to amputate it?”

I looked at him aghast.

“How did you know that?” I exclaimed in amazement.

“Because...” he said slowly, “the only thing you said as the gas began to take a hold was 'Please, don't take my leg'.”

“I remember you saying you wouldn't,” I replied, “I thought it was still part of the dream. What time is it?”

I asked, as I had noticed the early morning sun, streaming through the window, the curtains preventing a painful glare.

“Almost five,” came the answer.

“Will I always have such dreams?”

I began to imagine that I would never be able so sleep properly again.

“I can't say you won't but generally they go away as the memories fade and become less vivid.”

He paused for a minute.

“I will say though that in my considerable experience, those people who bottle the fears inside themselves tend to take much longer to heal from the mental scars that such incidents invariably leave. I know you don't want to talk about it with me but if you can find someone, anyone who will listen, then it will help, I promise you.”

“I saw...” I began but then stopped and shook my head. “I saw... I'm sorry, I can't”

It was no good, I couldn't tell him what I saw and what happened.

“Hey, it's okay. It only happened a few days ago. There is plenty of time.” He took my hand reassuringly. “Maybe you could try to sleep again. You must be exhausted.”

I smiled and nodded but inside I was petrified of closing my eyes and being right back there again.

He stood and returned the chair to the corner.

“I go off shift in about ninety minutes but I will speak to the Matron before I go.”

I didn't say anything, just smiled and, after a pause, Doctor Harlow left me alone.

I lay quietly, fighting the sleep that threatened to overwhelm me, listening to the sounds of the ward outside. I heard a door close with a gentle bump, the creaking of a nurses shoes as she passed but, generally, all was quiet.

Suddenly, I was aware of a hand touching my shoulder.

“Mademoiselle, votre Petit-déjeuner.”

I looked at the clock and saw it was seven-thirty! I had slept for two and a half hours with no dream!

“Merci,” I replied as the young nurse placed a tray like a small table upon my bed in front of me.

As I ate the croissant, I heard a friendly voice from the doorway and looked up to see Françoise standing there.

“Good Morning,” I smiled.”Did you see Doctor Harlow?”

“I did,” she replied, stepping further into the room.

“Then he told you about last night?”

“Yes,” she said, “and he is quite right. It will help to talk about it but only when you are ready. If it helps, you can talk to me, you know.”

“I do want to talk but...” She waited patiently, not pressuring me. “I am afraid, embarrassed even.”

“When you have finished your breakfast and the ward duties are complete I will come and, if you wish, we will talk and I will ensure we are not disturbed, yes?”

“Okay, yes. Thank you,” I smiled warmly.

“I have some news too. Your friend, Mrs. Rana. She is coming to this ward shortly. She is well enough to leave intensive care now.”

“That is great news!” I exclaimed. “Thank you so much, Françoise.”

I noticed then that she had a newspaper in her hand and, realising that I had noticed, said:

“This is an English newspaper, from two days after the crash. I wondered if you wanted to see it but I would urge caution as there are pictures.”

“Yes please,” I assured her. “I would like to see it. I have so many questions that perhaps I will find some answers.”

When she was gone I unfolded the paper and there, on the front page was a picture of the crash.

That one picture said it all and I understood immediately why Eric and Bob had not survived.

As I read the articles I realised just how lucky those who had survived had been. The front of the fuselage, including the cockpit had been torn completely away by the crash, just in front of the passenger cabin bulkhead. That had taken much of the force of the impact away from the cabin.

I was completely engrossed and read everything that was written about it. There was even an article about a rich socialite who had survived the crash who had disappeared from the hospital in Toulouse along with a picture. It was Jemima and I just sat and looked at the photo, thinking how unimpressed I would have been had I met her in different circumstances.

She was dressed in a long ball gown with a long trailing scarf around her shoulders and a glass of champagne in her hand. The picture had been taken at some charity event some months before.

I would not normally have had the slightest interest in such pictures but now? Now I just looked and saw a beautiful woman who had awoken something deep within my heart.

I turned the page. Oh gosh, a picture of me! It was a company photo, one that was taken a couple of years ago when staff records were updated. The article was calling me a hero and stating I had remained calm throughout the ordeal and led the survivors to safety, even though I had been injured myself.

It all seemed rather strange, surreal even, as though I was reading about someone else.

The room was quite warm and stuffy as the morning wore on and after the broken nights sleep I'd had, I found myself dozing off and the newspaper slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor. I grabbed at as it went but missed and it hit the tiles with loud rustling of pages.

“Damn it!” I thought, “It will just have to stay there until someone comes along.”

“I'll get it,” a man's voice from the door.

I looked up and froze!

“What the hell?” I gasped. “You can't be... you... you're...” I screamed out in fear.

To be continued...