It seemed a particularly cruel fate that, almost as soon as Nell had returned to the School, I should be sent off to Innsbruck for the weekend. Knowing that this one occasion hardly overbalanced the luck and timing we had had so far provided little comfort; those glorious two days - and three nights! - we had shared alone in Fulpmes, and indeed the very luck of both being placed together on that exeat in the first place, continued to bring a grateful smile to my face but did not make this unexpected distance any easier to bear. Still, there was nothing I could do but trot off obediently down to Innsbruck early on the Saturday morning with Hilda Annersley and fifteen victims who all stood in more or less need of dental attention. The afternoon spent at the museum, then the theatre in the evening, should have been an enjoyable time: the girls were an agreeable bunch and under other circumstances, it would have been a good trip, but I ached to have shared it with Nell. I had barely had time to speak with her since she'd arrived back, Joey having commandeered her company that first evening until Matron sent them both off to bed very early. And foolish I may have been, but not yet foolish enough to incur the wrath of Matey by visiting her patient after that!

Keen to not entirely waste the weekend - for 'waste' was precisely how I saw it - I took the chance to attend to a couple of letters and run an errand or two of my own, and then threw myself into enjoying the outing as best as I could. By the time we had returned as far as Spartz on the Sunday afternoon, however, our trip had become a rather tense affair. A general sense of foreboding had overtaken most of the girls, and the skies threatened rain. We cut short our kaffee, and met Herr Anserl who accompanied us back to the School with lanterns. Feeling certain the collective feeling of impending disaster was misplaced, my own concern - other than the weather - was simply to get back and see Nell as soon as possible. I was aware I was struggling to focus on the walk and Herr Anserl's rumbling chatter, my mind flooded with the only person I really wanted to be with. I remembered how the lantern light had dappled over her hair, how it had been reflected in her sparkling eyes, how much had happened between then and now. I remembered the scent of the pine trees, the tickle of Nell's breath as she murmured in my ear, her voice low and inviting. I remembered those same low, inviting tones whispering down my neck in the darkness of the room at the Pension Gisela in Fulpmes, and I was glad for the darkness now, concealing my blushes.

My excitement at finally reaching the School - just as the first drops of rain started to fall! - was promptly cut short as soon as we burst in, to be immediately surrounded by an agitated crowd, who demanded with one voice, "Have you seen Eustacia?"

Nell was in the staff room, in her chair. Her eyes met mine and said everything: concern, reassurance, post-injury fatigue; friendship, desire, understanding. I suddenly felt profoundly glad she was there: Nell was an asset to any emergency committee. Even after Matron had sent her to bed, having silenced Nell's wild objections with her usual last resort for the sleep-resistant, I felt the strength I derived from her presence push me through the night as the rest of us held counsel and waited 'til dawn, when the men's search might begin.

The news the next morning that Eustacia had been safely found, certainly alive if not yet entirely well, was naturally a great cause for celebration in itself and I gave prayers of thanks. There was a further benefit, though: the general air of excited relief provided a thorough distraction all round, presenting me with the opportunity to slip unnoticed into Nell's room during her enforced afternoon rest.

I stuck my head quietly around the door. "Are you awake?"

The patient grimaced. "Yes, I'm awake. Why on earth would I want to sleep yet again? If our industrious Matron doesn't stop sending me off to bed every five minutes, I'll -"

"Yes?" I enquired sweetly as I slipped inside and closed the door behind me.

"If she catches you waking me up, you're for it, you know." Nell propped herself up against her pillows and reached for the water-glass on the table beside her.

"English as she is spoke! Why, you hardly seem pleased to see me." I grinned wickedly. "As for waking you up - how could I possibly not, when it's so very enjoyable?" My remark struck home beautifully, and I watched, gratified, as she blushed at the memory.

"I can just see you explaining that to Matey! Why are you here, though - lovely though it is to see you?" She replaced the now empty glass and gestured at the bed beside her.

I shrugged and sat down nonchalantly on top of her plumeau, wishing I could move closer, not trusting myself enough to do so. "Because I could? And because I wanted to ask you something."

She raised an eyebrow and waited. I waited. When the silence threatened to become oppressive, and she gave me an encouraging smile, I summoned up all of my courage, all of my affected-casual, and blurted it out quickly: "What are you doing over Easter? Shall we go away somewhere together?"

Nell glanced sharply at me. "I thought you'd said you were staying with your parents?"

"I did. I wrote to say I'd made plans to spend it with a friend instead."

She regarded me with an amused stare, though the smile playing at the corners of her mouth betrayed her sardonic cool. "And what if I'd said no?"

I grinned. "Then I'd have spent it alone and had a perfectly jolly time of it too. You needn't feel obliged, you know."

She glanced quickly at the closed door and leaned closer, bridging the gap I had so ostentatiously left between us with a kiss. "I'd love to."

I flushed with pleasure.

"Where did you tell them you were going?" Nell asked interestedly.

I coloured more deeply, thus reminded. "Erm, Paris. As a matter of fact I, erm. Well."

Nell narrowed her eyes and I watched warily as realisation dawned. "You've already booked it, haven't you?"

"Very presumptuous," I agreed soberly.

"Mmm." Undisguised amusement. Noncommittal pleasure.

"I could cancel, though. We could go anywhere, really. I just wanted to spend some time with you, I don't mind where it is."

Nell looked away briefly, and my stomach flipped anxiously until I realised she was, for perhaps the first time, lost for words. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well. Paris would be very nice. Wouldn't it?"