It had been years since Dr. J.J. Josephson stood in the Foyle sitting room. The doctor had been called out in the middle of the night not long after the first anniversary of the late Mrs. Foyle's death when Andrew had come down with a serious case of stomach upset. The discussion that night had been a sight better than the ones that preceded it over the fading health of Mrs. Foyle. Unfortunately, this night had thrown Christopher Foyle back into despair. Josephson saw it immediately upon the detective's opening of the front door.

Foyle had quickly explained the situation and Josephson gave the young lady a quick once over in the sitting room. Then looking up at Foyle he'd asked, "don't suppose there's a room that's a bit more private?"

Foyle's eyes widened and then narrowed as comprehension slowly set in. "Upstairs… can use my room or Andrew's at the back. Bath is close by too."

Foyle watched as Josephson led Sam up the steps. Sam was trancelike now, her eyes vacant and her demeanor somewhat lost. That look worried him more than any physical injuries. Feeling completely helpless and angry and a sundry of other frantic emotions, he paced for a few minutes until he stood beside the liquor cabinet. Pouring himself another Scotch, Foyle knocked it back, letting the burn of the alcohol slide down his throat.

As he waited, Christopher debated calling her father but quickly dismissed it. That should be her decision unless things were so bad that it became necessary, he reasoned. Having come to that conclusion all that was left was for him to pace again, which he did.

Finally Josephson appeared in the doorway. "You can pour me one of that," he said grimly as he pointed to Christopher's glass. Foyle did as the doctor asked and handed him the drink quietly. He knew the doctor would tell him what was required and whatever else the medic thought he should know.

"Christopher, who is this young woman to you?" Josephson was looking at him quizzically.

"Samwuz mmy driver… and my friend. Sshe stepped out with Andrew for a bit and I thought she might become family. Bbut Andrew made a mess of it." Christopher swallowed tightly. Damn Andrew, if he'd not been such an idiot then she wouldn't have been out at the pub tonight. Christopher blinked as that thought ran through his mind. Nooo, not fair; isn't his fault either. But Christopher couldn't help wanting to blame someone.

"Sshe's… sshe'll be alright…in time?" he asked the doctor tentatively.

"In time," the other man agreed. "But she's been through hell tonight, Christopher. Her attackers… they weren't kind at all, not at all…. Brutal in fact. Worst one I've seen in awhile in terms of… erm, well, you know. Poor girl probably will never want… well, to be touched again."

Foyle's entire body clinched as the meaning of the doctor's words sank in. Never in his life had he felt such rage and there was no way to release it, no one to visit it upon. Not yet anyway. "Sso what do I do… to help her?"

"Be best if she had a woman looking out for her but she insists she does not want her parents informed. Does she have any female friends or relatives nearby?"

Shaking his head negatively, Foyle answered. "Not that I'm aware. A few friends but not… not close enough to help her manage this. She's been helping out at a guest house up on the hill and become quite close with the owner, Adam Wainwright."

Josephson looked at Foyle speculatively. "You sure there's not a woman? Or maybe you could persuade her to tell her mother?"

"I can ask but yes, fairly certain there is no one who she would want. And her mother's frail, it seems. Probably not up for this."

"She indicated that she would like to stay here with you, if you're willing. There hasn't been… I mean, you and she aren't… haven't…?"

Christopher's eyes flashed up at the doctor's. "Heavens no! God's sake, JJ; what do you take me for? Sshe's Andrew's age aaand… and my driver. It wouldn't be… right… for me to … to take advantage of her like that." Christopher couldn't identify why the implication had bothered him more than usual just now, but it did; it made him angry… and afraid. "Aand anyway, there's Adam..."

"Just wanted to be sure," JJ said quickly. "She's not in a good state of mind and an amorous boyfriend is the last thing she needs."

"Oh … rright. Of course not. There's nothing there, like that between us; just worked together."

"And friends," JJ added as he looked at Foyle dubiously.

Christopher looked at the doctor cynically. "And friends," he agreed.

"For now, she needs rest and comforting. I imagine she'll have nightmares. And she'll be sore the next few days, a week maybe; bruises will take longer. Nothing's broken, except her spirit possibly. But she is bruised and beaten and there are some wounds… personal wounds, if you know what I mean. She'll need to keep clean and you'll need to keep a watch for signs of fever. Let her sleep as much as she wants. Let her judge how quickly she is up and about but don't let her wallow either."

"Tthat all?"

"I'll check on her in a day or two unless you call me first. And Christopher, try not to let her see your anger. She's likely to take it on herself. She blames herself in this as it is and if she sees how angry you are, she's going to think it is with her."

"Right," he answered darkly. "She says she doesn't want to report it. I…"

"Let her decide that. She might feel differently in the morning. Meantime, I've made a record of the injuries. Jotted down what she told me too. But don't press her, Christopher. She's been beaten up quite enough tonight already." Christopher saw Josephson out the door and then wearily climbed the steps to find Sam.

She was in his room curled under the bedclothes in a fetal position, her defenses making her ball up. He tapped quietly on the doorframe in case she was asleep, but of course she wasn't. She jerked at the sound and the covers came down just enough for her to peer over the top at him. "mind if I come in?" he asked as lightly as he could manage.

She nodded but still wouldn't look at him. Gingerly he sat on the foot of the bed. "Sam, the doctor says you need looking after for a few days. He suggested a woman. Is there anyone…" Her head shook frantically as her eyes grew large. He took that as a no. "Alright then, I suppose I'll have to do, unless you want to stay up at the guest house. " She nodded vigorously that she did not. "You can stay here. I've some time off due. I'll call Hugh Reid in the morning and arrange it. Tell him that since I'm taking some time, I've sent you to visit your parents. That way no one will expect you at the station."

The relief in her expression nearly broke him. He didn't like seeing her this frightened. "You're safe here, Sam. I hope you know that."

"I know," she whispered. "I… knew I could trust you; more than anyone."

Her words of trust were like a knife thrust into his chest. Bloody poor job he did keeping her safe on the best of days and tonight… he began to shake with the anger of it. She saw his reaction and began to retreat under the covers; Christopher knew he had to do something to ease her anxiety. "It's alright Sam; suppose I'm just feeling some aftershock. I won't deny I'd like to get my hands on these men that did this to you but we'll leave it for tonight. You comfortable where you are?"

"Yes," she whispered. "But I can go to the other room. This is…"

"Fine. You're fine right where you are. I can sleep in the other room. I just…" he felt his eyes water and paused to collect himself. "I just want you to be comfortable," he said hoarsely.

"I am. Feels safe here, with you," she said shyly.

Not quite sure of what she meant by that, he decided to let it pass. "So, I'll just collect my night clothes and leave you to it," he said as he opened a drawer to pull out fresh clothing. It occurred to him that Sam might want to shed her clothes. "You um… want something to sleep in?"

Her expression almost showed a hint of a spark as she nodded that she would. "Ummm, one of my nightshirts do?" He felt awkward asking but it was all he could think of.

Her eyes grew huge. "Yes please," she finally replied.

Pulling one from the drawer as well as the bottoms, he crossed the room to hand it to her. "We'll get some fresh clothes sorted for you tomorrow, alright?"

Eyeing the material in his hand, she nodded agreement. He couldn't help but think that if one only looked at her expression, they might think he was handing her a prize of some kind. She seemed keen to have his shirt. Probably eager to get out of her clothes, he surmised.

He handed her the night clothes and then headed for the door. "You'll probably remember from before, bathroom's across the landing. And if you need anything, anything at all Sam, you'll let me know?"

She nodded briskly. Christopher had one more thing on his mind. "I've called Adam, let him know you won't be home tonight. We'll sort the rest tomorrow," he said as he closed the door behind him.

The call to Adam had certainly sounded quite idiotic if not entirely suspicious and Foyle wished he'd been able to explain more. But even if Sam hadn't been so upset at the prospect of Adam knowing what had happened, he wasn't certain he could make himself say the words. To try to explain what had happened to Sam would have crushed him.

With that in mind, Christopher finished his nightly routine and stood next to the door to his room listening. The house was quiet and he detected no sounds that might indicate she was crying so he padded off to Andrew's room to settle in for the night. He didn't think sleep would come easily but he knew the next few days would be rough and he needed to try.