Iris and Ruby: A gripping, exotic historical novel. Rosie Thomas
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The lamp was on beside Iris’s bed, but the rest of the room was dim. Her eyes had been closed, but as soon as Mamdooh came in with Ruby behind him she opened them. At first, the expression was blank. If there was anything in the depths, it was bewilderment. But then Iris saw Ruby. Her lips moved and she tried to sit up against the pillows.
‘There you are,’ she said.
How long have I been ill this time?
I have had the lurid, monstrous dreams of a high fever, but not so many of them. I am sure it was only this morning that the doctor came, the young Frenchman called Nicolas Grosseteste. His senior partner was my doctor for many years, although I rarely needed his opinion. But poor Alphonse is dead now and Doctor Nicolas is capable enough, in his superior way. He thinks I am old and frail, but I am not quite as frail as he believes. I have had malaria and another bout would probably finish me off, but it is not malaria this time. My immune system is weakened from many years of living in equatorial climates and I am susceptible to fevers. But I feel better tonight. Seeing the child makes me feel better.
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