The house was quiet again. Cynthia had left on another visit and his parents had returned temporarily to their own house.
"Only for ve afternoon" Irene had said. "Cleanin' an' tidying an' we need to get ve dog from ve neighbours. 'E was only meant to be vere for a day or so. Jim an' Rose'll fink we abandoned 'im".
Ironing done, Chummy rounded their bedroom door, more clean pyjamas in hand and she found Peter sitting on the side of their bed. "Peter?!" she exclaimed almost throwing her wares onto the chair. "What are you doing trying to get up?!"
"I need the bathroom and I wasn't going to shout you" he offered, hoping he might have been able to get up and out of the room before she spied him.
"Well you should have done!" she cried, helping him stand. Whilst, since the change of antibiotics he had been more awake and these last three days he was feeling better, he was by no means ready to go parading around.
"I need to brush my teeth, comb my hair and wash my face". It also didn't help that he was officially bored senseless. "Honestly Camilla. I'll be fine. It's ten yards". He reached up and kissed her before she had the chance to protest. She noticed his lips were cracked and dry.
"Promise me when you get back you'll get straight back into bed!" she called after him. The words 'I will' rattled around the bathroom tiles although she would admit that she wasn't sure whether she believed him. Chummy busied herself hearing him walk back into the room, feeling distinctly better and seeing him appear behind her in her dresser mirror.
She felt a kiss pressed between her shoulder blades; heart melting as she smiled and closed her eyes, revelling in the attention. Apart from occasional kisses, it had been far too long since she had felt his arms around her.
"I want to hug you but it hurts" Peter said dolefully. He must have read her mind; or her face. Chummy turned and leaned down to kiss him, hands by her side so she wouldn't knock or squeeze him. She had a little pot of Vaseline in her hands for his lips.
"I have the most wonderful nurse" he smiled, wandering off back to bed, a bit out of breath from the exertion of his walk if he was being honest.
"Do you want a change of pyjamas?" she asked.
"Will I be manhandled?" he inquired as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Last time he remembered she did that he had been half asleep a few days ago and the jokes she had with his mother. If he was honest, whilst it might have been a bit of a struggle, he didn't want his mother's help.
"Unless you want to be?" she asked, feeling that little sparkle return again in her eyes. "No, I will be gentle".
"You're always gentle" he said quietly, "but you will have to help". He couldn't twist properly as yet even though the wound was obviously getting better. He didn't like the look of it still but she seemed happy so he would believe her.
"The inspector came round yesterday evening too" she said, going to pull the cord on his pyjama bottoms.
"I know I heard him" Peter replied. He had woken to the knock on the door and the Inspector's rather loud tone; hearing every work that was said.
"He's coming on Friday again" his wife offered. "They've charged the one that Bill Forrest identified. Actual Bodily Harm I think he said".
Peter nodded, undoing his pyjama cord as she shook out his fresh pair. He hadn't touched the notebook in days and really wondered if it might make any difference at all with all of his nonsensical scribbles within it. He had no idea what Bill remembered; what any witness might have said as they must have attracted a crowd.
"Step" Chummy instructed, kneeling on the floor, as he stepped out of the trousers and she retrieved the clean pair from the bed. "Step again".
"He did say he wanted to question you" she continued. "Just unofficially first".
"I'll do that bit" he said, as she brought the clothing up his legs and he tied the tie back up again. Putting his shirt around his shoulders, Chummy was really quite pleased that the dressing was as clean as it had been when she put it on this morning in her quick look on the way up. "Happy?"
Peter nodded. "I'd like to sit a bit".
"Alright" she said, turning over his collar to straighten it. "Put your dressing gown on and I'll make you some tea".
"I am coming with you, you know. I'd like to sit downstairs" he ventured. Just the change of scenery would do him the world of good.
"Peter…." She frowned, as his hands went to her hips, thumbs brushing over her waist and silently she cursed him as that was the one way he could get around her every time.
"Alright" she replied noticing him put the notebook and pen in the pocket of his dressing gown once he had it on.
Seated at the kitchen table, Peter sat waiting for his tea, the notebook beside him. He was determined to see what else he could recall. It was heaven though to be sitting somewhere else than their bedroom and he had every intention of staying down here as long as possible - or that she would let him.
"Camilla?" he asked, watching her as she filled the kettle with water. "What did the Hospital tell you when I was taken in?"
"Just it was an incident in the Docks" she replied, the Hospital not giving her very much information at all. "Bill said it was a fight over barrels of beer". Peter nodded. He remembered that. "He told me more than anyone else did. Said that he thinks you saw him about to get attacked and shouted for him to move. He said he thought it was your voice he heard".
"I think one of them was German" he offered, scanning the notes he had made. "One of them definitely said something in German. I remembered a few words from…. you know". He didn't really want to say he recalled, or rather had learned, how to get by in German and French from his time fighting.
"Bill did say they were foreigners", Chummy replied. The kettle was on the stove and she turned to fetch cups.
"Did I come to see you at Nonnatus before?" Peter asked, trying to piece together his day. He thought he remembered sitting in the kitchen with her having breakfast, but beyond that? Very little if nothing at all.
Chummy shook her head. "No. It happened at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. I was just finishing off with a patient and looking forward to getting back. See if I could catch you". The heart-sinking moment had still not been erased from her mind.
"It was the first shout after lunch" he suddenly remembered. "Bill and I were walking along the Dock Road and one of the security guards ran up. Said something was going on".
"So you ran down?" she ventured.
"To the disused sugar warehouse". There were images coming back to him as they talked, running down the cobbles; seeing the sunshine as it skipped over the water thinking it was just going to be yet another fight between dockers and it would over before it began.
"So there was you and Bill?" Chummy asked as the kettle whistled.
He could hear the shouting now, picking up occasional words. Peter had no intention of repeating them in front of Camilla. Expletives and insults he had picked up in the Army helped him, pushed and shoved as they tried to intervene in the scuffle. Someone grabbing hold of his arm, seeing the flash of a knife heading towards his comrade. Shouting. Then feeling nothing. No pain at all, hand going to his side, not knowing the dampness on his uniform was blood.
"Peter?" she asked, her quiet, tentative voice bringing him back to reality seeing he was staring into space.
"What does being stabbed feel like?" he asked. She might know, might have nursed someone who'd been stabbed before and could tell him as that too was a blank.
"Did you….did you see any blood?". It was a very tentative question.
"No" Peter replied. Relatively sure he hadn't; just felt it.
"Cold, shaky?" she offered, seeing him nod. "You went into shock. You would have gone under when the pain was too much"
"I saw boots" he said, glancing over his notes. "Work boots. Black ones". He knew that didn't help at all. How many people would have been around the docks that time of day in work boots? Probably hundreds.
"When he pulled the knife out, that's when it hurt". He'd been on his knees at that point, panic overtaking any rational thought to remember anything else about what was going on, hearing people shouting, police whistles too. They had attracted a crowd and someone must have run off to get another police officer.
"Peter" she said, running her hand down his face. "You don't have to remember. If you can't, you can't. Don't force it".
"I should be able to remember…its my job to remember it Camilla…..all four of them were…."
"Four?" she interrupted, passing him his tea, realising he had never mentioned numbers before. Nobody had.
"Four" he smiled, ever so pleased that he had recalled just something new. "There were four. Two speaking German, two speaking… something else. It wasn't English".
"Put it in the book" she smiled. "and drink your tea". She could see he was scratching his face. "You do need a shave" she offered. She didn't mind him unshaven, but knew he hated it.
"I know" Peter replied, pulling a face. "I'll do it when I go back up" he continued, putting his tea cup to his lips. It was just lovely to be back downstairs with her even if it was just about drinking cups of tea. Chummy was about to open her mouth when there was a knock on the front door.
"Is that Mum and Dad?" he asked, not expecting visitors of any nature.
"Shouldn't' be" Chummy replied, taking off her pinny so she could go and open the door. "I gave them the spare key".