TWENTY‘I’ll be fine.’ Beauvoir looked like death.
‘Eventually, yes,’ said Gamache as he practically carried the man up the stairs and into Beauvoir’s bedroom at the B. & B. He helped Beauvoir undress and ran a bath, and eventually, clean and warm, Beauvoir subsided into the large comfortable bed, with its soft flannel sheets and eiderdown duvet. Gamache fluffed up the pillows and brought the duvet up to Beauvoir’s chin, all but tucking him in. He placed the tray with tea and crackers within reach.
Beauvoir’s feet rested on a hot water bottle, wrapped in a cozy, the warmth spreading slowly from his freezing feet up his shivering body. Beauvoir had never felt so sick or so relieved.
‘Feel better?’
Beauvoir nodded, trying not to let his teeth chatter. Gamache put his huge cool hand on the
