The Other Side of Midnight

Noelle explained the situation, and whether it was her words or the frantic despair in her voice she never knew, but two hours later she was talking to the War Ministry in London. They could not help her, but they transferred her to the Air Ministry at Whitehall who put her through to Combat Operations, where she was disconnected before she could get any information. It was four more hours before Noelle was reconnected, and by then she was on the verge of hysteria. Air Operations could give her no information and suggested she try the War Ministry.

"I've talked to them!" Noelle screamed into the phone. She began to sob, and the male English voice at the other end of the phone said in embarrassment, "Please, miss, it can't be that bad. Hold on a moment."

Noelle held the receiver in her hand, knowing that it was hopeless, certain that Larry was dead and that she would never know how or where he died. And she was about to replace the receiver when the voice spoke in her ear again and said cheerfully, "What you want, miss, is the Eagle Squadron. They're the Yanks, based in Yorkshire. It's a bit irregular, but I'm going to put you through to Church Fenton, their airfield. Their chaps will be able to help you." And the line went dead.

It was eleven o'clock that night before Noelle could get the call through again. A disembodied voice said, "Church Fenton Air Base," and the connection was so bad that Noelle could barely hear him. It was as though he were speaking from the bottom of the sea. He was obviously having difficulty hearing her. "Speak up, please," he said. By now, Noelle's nerves were so frayed that she could hardly control her voice.

"I'm calling"--she did not even know his rank. Lieutenant? Captain? Major? "I'm calling Larry Douglas. This is his fiancee."

"I can't hear you, miss. Can you speak louder, please?"

On the edge of panic Noelle screamed out the words again, sure that the man at the other end of the phone was trying to conceal from her that Larry was dead. For a miraculous instant the line cleared, and she heard the voice saying as though he were in the next room, "Lieutenant Larry Douglas?"

"Yes," she said, holding on tightly to her emotions.

"Just a moment, please."

Noelle waited for what seemed an eternity and then the voice came back on the line and said, "Lieutenant Douglas is on weekend leave. If it's urgent, he can be reached at the Hotel Savoy ballroom in London, General Davis' party." And the line went dead.

When the maid came in to clean the room the next morning, she found Noelle on the floor, semiconscious. The maid stared at her a moment, tempted to mind her own business and leave. Why did these things always have to happen in her rooms? She went over and touched Noelle's forehead. It was burning hot. Grumbling, the maid waddled down the hall and asked the porter to send up the manager. One hour later an ambulance pulled up outside the hotel and two young interns carrying a stretcher were directed to Noelle's room. Noelle was unconscious. The young intern in charge raised her eyelid, put a stethoscope to her chest and listened to the rales as she breathed. "Pneumonia," he said to his companion. "Let's get her out of here."

They lifted Noelle onto the stretcher and five minutes later the ambulance was racing toward the hospital. She was rushed into an oxygen tent, and it was four days before she was fully conscious. She dragged herself reluctantly up from the murky green depths of oblivion, subconsciously knowing something terrible had happened and fighting not to remember what it was. As the awful thing floated closer and closer to the surface of her mind, and she struggled to keep it from herself, it suddenly came to her clear and whole. Larry Douglas. Noelle began to weep, racked with sobs until she finally drifted off into a half-sleep. She felt a hand gently holding hers, and she knew that Larry had come back to her, that everything was all right. Noelle opened her eyes and stared at a stranger in a white uniform, taking her pulse. "Well! Welcome back," he announced cheerfully.

"Where am I?" Noelle asked.

"L'Hotel-Dieu, the City Hospital."

"What am I doing here?"

"Getting well. You've had double pneumonia. I'm Israel Katz." He was young, with a strong, intelligent face and deep-set brown eyes.

"Are you my doctor?"

/> "Intern," he said. "I brought you in." He smiled at her. "I'm glad you made it. We weren't sure."

"How long have I been here?"

"Four days."

"Would you do me a favor?" she asked weakly.

"If I can."

"Call the Hotel Lafayette. Ask them--" she hesitated. "Ask them if there are any messages for me."

"Well, I'm awfully busy--"

Noelle squeezed his hand fiercely. "Please. It's important. My fiance is trying to get in touch with me."

He grinned. "I don't blame him. All right. I'll take care of it," he promised. "Now you get some sleep."

"Not until I hear from you," she said.

He left, and Noelle lay there waiting. Of course Larry had been trying to get in touch with her. There had been some terrible misunderstanding. He would explain it all to her and everything would be all right again.

It was two hours before Israel Katz returned. He walked up to her bed and set down a suitcase. "I brought your clothes. I went to the hotel myself," he said.

She looked up at him, and he could see her face tense.