I nodded—weakly, I am afraid. I felt well enough physically, but shaken and overwrought.
“Can I have some tea?” I asked limply.
Thelma burst out laughing. “Now, I’m sure you are better,” she bubbled. “Wait a moment and I will have it sent out.”
She disappeared into the hotel and in a few moments a waiter appeared with tea things. He glanced at me and bowed. “I’m glad monsieur is better,” he said simply.
How good that tea tasted! It was glorious to be alive again and I ate and drank with good appetite. I felt better every moment: it was clear I was well on the way to recovery.
“And now, Thelma,” I asked when we had finished. “Tell me what happened. I remember nothing after the fire. Have I been ill long?”
“You must be prepared for a surprise, Rex,” she said gently. “Do you know—of course you cannot—that that was five months ago?”
“Five months!” I echoed stupidly. “Have I been ill all that time?”
“You have been very ill indeed, Rex, and for a time we had very little hope that you would ever recover. You got over the burns fairly quickly in the Hampstead Hospital but your memory gave way. But don’t worry now, the doctors all said you would probably recover yourself quite suddenly and be absolutely yourself again. But they could not say how long it would be and it has been weary waiting.”
“How long have I been here?” I asked.