Copyright

Published by Avon an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018

Copyright © HarperCollins 2018

Cover photography © Jeff Cottenden 2018

Background Images © Getty/ Shutterstock 2018

Cover design © Head Design 2018

Molly Green asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008238971

Ebook Edition © May 2018 ISBN: 9780008238988

Version: 2020-01-22

Dedication

For the five nurses who were killed on 10th September 1940 when a bomb completely destroyed the Nurses’ Wing at St Thomas’ Hospital (I have changed their names in the novel).

To all Dr Barnardo’s children during the Second World War who were the inspiration for this series.

Lastly, to all those who served in the RAF’s Coastal Command.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

After …

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Molly Green

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Liverpool, September 1939

Three days after war was declared, Maxine Grey walked slowly down the aisle, her fingers nervously gripping her father’s rigid arm, towards the man she had promised to marry – her best friend, Johnny Taylor. In spite of the bad luck she’d warned him it would bring, Johnny had turned at her entrance, and now he gave her his wide smile and a cheeky wink. She knew it was meant to reassure her, but if anything it made her more conscious of the huge step she was taking. The strident notes of ‘Here Comes the Bride’ from the organist almost took her by surprise, making her pause, her ears hum. She pulled in a deep breath to slow down her heartbeat. Her father gave her a quick glance and patted her hand.

She could hear the swish of the satin-like material of her dress; feel it catch at the back of her legs with every stride. It had taken her a month of evenings and half-days off from the hospital to make the simple cream dress which swept the floor, and the little matching cropped jacket, from a McCall’s pattern – the same amount of time Johnny had given her when he’d persuaded her they should get married. There was definitely going to be a war, he’d said, and it would probably come sooner rather than later. She swallowed. How right he’d been.

Another step, then another, and another. She took a deep breath but the scent of the flowers left over from last Sunday’s service was cloying and she pulled her stomach in tight to stop herself from feeling faint. A final step. She’d reached him. Her father nudged her forward and a little to the right where Johnny stood waiting for her, watching her every movement. His smile had faded now as if it had finally dawned on him too that this was a serious event. How different he looked in his grey suit. Older. Not like her Johnny.

Her fingers reluctantly left her father’s arm and she was alone. But of course, she wasn’t alone. Johnny was here. They were going to be married. Every bride was nervous on her wedding day, so her mother had said when they’d shared a pot of tea that morning. It was to be expected. She wasn’t to worry. Johnny was a good boy. He’d always look after her, her mother had said.

‘Johnny’s who we always wanted for you, Maxine. Your dad’s so happy. He can die in peace knowing he’s left you in good hands.’

It was no secret that her dad had a dicky heart. Oh, he probably had another year or two left, Dr Turnbull had assured them – maybe more – but he’d encouraged the family to enjoy as much time together as possible. And now she was leaving him in the hands of her mother who constantly fussed over him, making him feel closer to death’s door than he probably was.

She took her place next to Johnny, her shoulder only inches away from his, and tried to draw his easy confidence into her own body, now taut with the thought of the unknown.

As the vicar started to address the congregation, Johnny turned towards her and Maxine noticed the same concerned expression he’d had only a few weeks ago, when they were sitting on their favourite park bench feeding the pigeons.

‘I’ve got something to tell you, Max,’ he’d said then. ‘I’m joining the army. I think I can be of use with my medical training.’

At his words her heart had turned over. Johnny. If anything should happen to him … She daren’t think further.

‘So what say you and I get hitched?’ He’d coated the words with a mock-American accent. It had taken her completely by surprise. Yes, she loved him. More than anyone in the world. He was the one she’d run to since she was a little girl, right from when he and his parents had moved next door but one. Being a boy of eleven, he hadn’t wanted to be bothered with an eight-year-old, and a girl at that, but she’d badgered him until he’d sometimes nodded and allowed her to accompany him when he went off birdwatching, or climbed trees in the nearby woods. Best of all she loved it when he’d take her down to the docks. She’d hand over her pocket money to Johnny and they’d go a couple of stations on the ‘Dockers’ Umbrella’, the overhead railway which followed the seven miles of docklands. She could have watched the ships come and go for hours, her eyes stretching all the way across the Mersey. Luckily, he was every bit as fascinated and would tell her where the ships had come from and where they were going.

He’d always been her teacher and her ‘bestest’ friend, as she used to call him when she was a child – sometimes still did, to make him laugh – but her lover? She’d never once thought of him in that way, and had suddenly felt almost embarrassed when he’d made his proposal.

‘You’ve been watching too many cowboy films,’ she’d answered, trying to make light of his clumsy proposal, not wanting to hurt him by saying she didn’t think she loved him in the way a wife should love her husband. She saw his face drop.

‘You do love me, don’t you?’ As if he’d read her mind, he’d grabbed both her hands and planted a firm kiss on her lips, then grinned at her. ‘You always said you’d marry me when you grew up.’

‘It’s what children say to one another.’ Maxine had bitten her lip. ‘Why don’t we wait and see what happens. If there really is going to be a war—’

‘Not “if” but “when”,’ Johnny had said, his grin fading. ‘And if the worst should happen—’

‘Don’t say it!’ Maxine jumped up. ‘Don’t tempt fate.’

‘We have to be realistic.’ Johnny took hold of her hand and gently pulled her back onto the seat again. ‘If it does, then at least you’ll get a pension as a soldier’s widow. And if we start a family – which I’d love more than anything in the world – you’ll be glad of the extra money for the baby.’

She couldn’t answer. Didn’t want to think beyond Johnny becoming a soldier. He was closer to her than her own flesh and blood. Mickey had never taken any interest in her whatsoever, even though there was only thirteen months between them. That was the trouble. Johnny was the brother she’d never had.

For a moment neither had spoken. Then he’d taken her chin in his hand and turned her face towards him.

‘I love you so much, Max,’ Johnny said, his voice thick. ‘Right from when you were a snotty-nosed kid. I’d do anything for you – you know that. And because I’m older you’ve usually left me to make the decisions – so I’m making this one for you. You’ll make me the happiest man in town and the envy of all the lads if you say yes.’ He looked at her, his eyes the colour of the conkers they used to play with. ‘Maybe this will help make up your mind.’ He drew from his pocket a small navy blue velvet box.

And then she knew. Before he’d even flipped open the lid on its little spring with his thumb, she knew she couldn’t turn him down. He was quite the dearest man on Earth. If there was a war and he died she’d never forgive herself for not making him happy by telling him she would be honoured to be his wife.

The emerald had shone back at her, as though to reinforce her thoughts.

She hadn’t the heart to tell him that emeralds were considered to bring bad luck.

‘Do you, Maxine Elizabeth, take John Laurence to be thy wedded husband?’

The words rang in Maxine’s ears and she gave a start, pulling herself out of the past and back to the church where she was getting married. Forcing herself to be calm, she repeated the words of the vicar as though in a dream, her voice low and trembling. She felt the brush of Johnny’s hand, and when he said his vows she realised he wasn’t quite so assured as he made out. Twice he stumbled on the words and sent her a rueful smile, but when it was over he grasped her hand and they stepped to the back of the altar where they signed the register.

She looked down at her signature. Strange how it was still Maxine Grey. But it would be the last time. From now on she would be known as Mrs Maxine Taylor. And on letters even worse – she would be Mrs John Taylor.

Would Maxine Grey be gone forever?

‘Now we’re married you won’t have to work anymore.’

Maxine regarded her new husband with astonishment. Breaking away from the small party the two sets of parents had given them had proved more difficult than she’d imagined, but now they were in a comfortable bedroom in The Royal Hotel, which Johnny had chosen for their first three nights together. He’d already had his call-up papers and would be leaving in four days. Maxine’s mind whirled with events that were racing ahead. He’d never mentioned her giving up work before. She hadn’t even thought to discuss it as she’d never imagined marrying him. During this past month she’d seen very little of her fiancé to talk about such matters, what with making the wedding dress in every spare moment she’d had from the hospital. Now that war had been officially declared she’d naturally assumed she’d carry on and finish her training.

Her mother had wanted her to become a nurse ever since she’d watched her bandaging her dolls one day and talking to them in a wise and encouraging seven-year-old voice.

‘You’re a born nurse,’ her mother always said.

At sixteen Maxine knew she wanted to teach, not nurse, but her father had insisted she stay on at grammar school for at least another year to give her time to make up her mind. When she was eighteen and told her parents she had applied to the teachers’ training college in Cambridge which specialised in teaching young children with no fathers, her mother put her foot down.

‘It’s a more important job to heal the sick,’ her mother told her. ‘Your father and I have set our hearts on you becoming a nurse … and one day, when you’re higher up in the hospital, you’ll catch the eye of a nice doctor – or even a surgeon,’ she laughed. ‘I can’t wait to help you arrange the wedding.’ She giggled like a young girl. ‘You’ll be set for life … and one day we’ll be able to look forward to our first grandchild.’

Maxine couldn’t answer. Her mother gave her a sharp look. ‘I know you’ll always make us proud, my dear, and always do the right thing.’

Maxine felt a shudder of despair. Her mother had already planned every important aspect of her life.

‘We’re going to do everything in our power to see that you’re trained in the best hospital,’ her mother went on. ‘We’ve decided you’re going to The Royal Infirmary, right here in Liverpool, so you can come and see us regularly. You’ll make us so proud.’

Maxine’s heart had plummeted. Her mother’s dream wasn’t her dream. But they’d been so good to her, sending her to grammar school when they could ill afford it. Yes, she’d won a scholarship but it hadn’t paid for many of the books, nor the uniform, and the shoes that had to be Clarks. The trouble was that Mickey had turned out to be the biggest disappointment to her parents, although her mother would never admit it. She doggedly went to visit him in prison every month, her head rigid in front of the gossiping neighbours, who apparently knew before she did that her son was in for multiple burglaries. Now she’s pinning her hopes on me, Maxine thought.

Her first year as a probationer had been a shock. She’d been sick so many times at the sight of blood and frightful injuries, shouted at by many of the senior staff, complained about by some of the patients, but she’d gradually learned how to handle it – well, most of the time, anyway. She’d cried often, wishing she’d stood up to her mother, but the worst was over now, so the other nurses had told her when she’d been tempted to pack it all in. Now she was about to start her second year she was looking forward to continuing her studies and taking her finals, knowing she’d be needed, what with the war on. So why did Johnny think he could wave her nurse’s training to one side? He, of all people, knew what a commitment she’d made.

‘Give up my training, do you mean?’ she demanded. ‘When I’ve worked so hard.’

‘Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to finish it,’ Johnny said, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘But there’s no need to continue when you’ve got your certificate.’

‘Johnny, why does being married have anything to do with my nursing?’

‘Because you’re my wife, and I don’t want you working. What would the lads say? “Can’t support your wife, Johnny-boy?” No, I’m not having that.’

‘I’m not interested in “the lads” and what they think,’ Maxine flashed. She tried to keep the bubble of irritation pressed down. ‘We’re talking about me. My parents nearly killed themselves to pay for my training. Think what a waste that would be. What am I supposed to do all day long? It’d be different if we’d been married longer and I had a child to look after.’

‘We can easily remedy that right away.’ Johnny gave an exaggerated wink, but if anything it made her even more cross. It wasn’t a joking matter and she knew she must stand firm. ‘You could help your mum … especially as your dad isn’t well,’ he continued. ‘That’s where your nursing will come in handy.’

‘Mum wouldn’t want that at all. She prides herself on looking after Dad. I’ll be much more valuable in the hospital when the wounded start coming in.’

‘We’ll talk about it some other time.’ Johnny took the last drags of his cigarette as though it was the end of the conversation as far as he was concerned. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and reached over to stub his cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table. ‘Come over here, Mrs Taylor.’ He spread his arms.

‘No, Johnny, it’s too important. We’ll talk about this right now.’

‘Let’s not spoil our first night, Max.’ Johnny looked across at her, his brown eyes afire with anticipation. ‘We haven’t got much time together.’

Maxine hesitated. If she let this go, she’d be paving the way for him never taking her seriously – that his needs and wants were more important than hers. That his decisions didn’t invite even discussion. A little voice reminded her that she had, only a few hours ago, promised to love, honour and obey him, but she shook it away. She took a deep breath and forced herself to speak calmly.

‘Johnny, I know most women leave work when they get married, but this is different. The war’s started. We don’t know how long it will last, but I want to do everything I can to help – the same as you. Everyone who can will contribute something. Mum’s even talking about organising knitting circles to make socks for the soldiers.’

Johnny opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him.

‘What do you think would have happened in the last war if all the women had stayed at home – married or not? They set to immediately. Servants who’d never been out in the world learned to drive and do all sorts of things that were considered men’s work. And spoilt rich girls who’d never lifted a finger equally rolled up their sleeves, and one of the things they did successfully was nursing – even going to the front.’

‘Max—’

‘I can’t … won’t give up my nursing,’ she flung at him. ‘It’s not fair of you to ask me. If you felt that strongly, you should have made it clear before the wedding – and I may have thought twice about marrying you.’ She ignored his shocked expression. ‘There’s no point in any further discussion. I’m carrying on working and that’s that.’

‘Don’t let’s quarrel, Max, especially not tonight of all nights.’

She hesitated. It was their wedding night, after all. Slowly, she walked towards him, her smile only an echo of his sudden happy grin.

Jones at the hospital had warned her the wedding night would be painful, but it wasn’t the physical pain that had hurt so much. Maxine had lain awake through the early hours, every muscle tense as she relived what should have been the culmination of their love. But Johnny had been silent throughout and she’d been too embarrassed to say anything. Afterwards, he’d simply kissed her on the forehead, rolled over and gone straight to sleep. Was this normal? Or was it because she’d stuck up for herself and it had clouded any words and gestures of love he might have given? She thought of all the happy times they’d spent together when they were children, but did she really know him now they were both grown up?

She closed her eyes and an unwelcome thought flashed across her mind. Had she made a terrible mistake? She sighed and turned over, hugging her pillow. Maybe things would look different in the morning.

Chapter Two

It was almost a guilty relief that Johnny was to leave so soon after they were married. Maxine was sure this was not a normal response to a new husband, but she couldn’t get out of her mind what Johnny had said. Although he’d not referred to the conversation again, she was sure he was still smarting at her refusal to leave work, and this must be what was affecting their marital relationship. They’d only had three days together but their perfunctory love-making didn’t quite match her dreams of romance.

Christmas came and went, and then it was 1940. Nothing seemed to happen. Sirens occasionally went off and Maxine, along with others at the hospital, practised making sure the patients were as safe as possible before the staff dived into the basement. And out on the streets, everyone, including babies, were given their gas masks, but it quickly became a bit of a joke. People started to leave their gas masks at home and she read that an American senator called it the Phoney War. Johnny came home on leave in April, telling her and her parents that the British were regularly flying over Germany, but instead of dropping bombs they were merely dropping propaganda leaflets, warning the people not to be taken in by Hitler and his empty promises. Johnny was so full of the chaps on the camp and how they passed their time together, he seemed hardly bothered that she was continuing her training. Or if he was, he didn’t show it.

Actually he didn’t show an awful lot, Maxine thought. He had a closed look about him these days. A tightening of the tiny muscles around his mouth. Eyes that didn’t twinkle at her like they used to. The army’s changing him, Maxine noticed. Taking him from her. He couldn’t wait to get back with his mates – she was sure of it.

An idea had begun to form in her mind. If she stayed in Liverpool she would naturally continue to live with her parents until she and Johnny had some time to look for somewhere to rent. But if she transferred to, say, a London hospital, she would gain some independence and be involved in proper war work. Johnny had already told her he wouldn’t be given much leave for the foreseeable future, so she couldn’t see he’d be affected much, one way or the other. At the moment it was only an idea, and she needed to think about it.

‘The sooner the real action starts, the sooner it will be over,’ Johnny said, when they came out of the cinema one evening, the second of the two days’ leave he’d been given. ‘It’s a pity we haven’t had a chance to look for our own place, but I’m glad you’re safe with your parents. It’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.’ He stopped her on the pavement and smacked a kiss on her cheek, then looked at her closely. ‘What’s up, Max? You seem rather quiet? Those aren’t tears, are they?’

‘No, it’s—’

‘Not upset because I’ve got to go back to camp tomorrow, are you?’ Johnny interrupted as though he was too impatient to listen to her. ‘Because if you are, forget it. You don’t have to worry about me.’

‘I know I don’t, Johnny. You can take care of yourself. You’ll be busy and that’s why I want to keep busy … and not just wait until you come home.’

His eyes were on her, as though he was trying to decipher her meaning. ‘Even with me away you can be busy looking for a place to rent. Give you something to think about. And if you really like something, I’ll be happy if you sign up. After all, you’ll be the one in it all day – not me.’

A spurt of anger leapt in her chest.

‘Johnny, you don’t seem to understand. I am going to finish my training and take my finals. And what’s more, I’m thinking of applying to one of the London hospitals to do just that.’

His face set in a hard expression she’d never seen before. ‘Since when did you decide this?’

‘I haven’t made any decision yet, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Mum has the best intentions but she smothers me. Living at home I’m still her child. She forgets I’m a grown woman.’

‘And a married one.’ Johnny’s voice had an edge to it. ‘My wife, in case you’ve forgotten.’

‘Please don’t start that again, Johnny. I’m not a simpering female – you should know that by now.’

‘Why do you want to leave Liverpool, for heaven’s sake? Your father’s not in the best health. Aren’t you being selfish?’

‘He’s all right at the moment. If anything should happen – if he gets worse – I’d come home immediately.’

Johnny took his time to light a cigarette. He inhaled deeply and blew out a stream of smoke.

‘If – and I say “if” – I allow you to carry on working, against all my better judgement, will you forget the idea of London?’

‘I told you, Johnny, it’s just a thought.’

Johnny had refused to discuss her idea of going to London anymore. She knew he wouldn’t understand why she’d want to leave Liverpool as he’d always said he’d never want to live anywhere else in the world. But this was far more serious. His attitude seemed to be that she was a possession rather than a woman with her own brain, and the Johnny she’d known and adored was fading. It was as though being married had cost them their precious friendship. Somehow it made it even more imperative that she take decisions for her own career. And that might mean transferring to London.

‘Take care of yourself, Max,’ Johnny shouted from the open window of the train as it began to roll out of the station the next morning.

‘You, too,’ she called, swallowing the lump in her throat. In spite of their disagreement, she knew she’d worry herself sick about him until she heard from him.

She half ran to catch the tram to take her back to the hospital. Her shift would start in an hour so she needed to hurry.

As the tram trundled along, Maxine peered out of the window, which for once was reasonably clean. Liverpool looked exactly the same as it always did. People rushing to work, shopping, the familiar landmarks of the adjoining historic buildings – the Derby Museum, the Walker Art Gallery and the impressive Central Library – no signs at all that the country was at war.

Her attention was suddenly caught by a tall RAF officer with a couple of books under his arm, running from the library towards her tram. There was something about him. A sense of urgency and the determined expression on his face as he drew nearer. She couldn’t help watching him, wondering if he’d manage to catch the tram before it pulled away. Just as he was about to board, the doors shut in his face and Maxine noticed his expression turned to raw annoyance. Before she could look away he gazed directly up at her through the window, his dark eyes holding hers for several long seconds. Her stomach fluttered. She had the strangest feeling that he knew her.

She felt disappointed for him that he hadn’t quite made it; she refused to acknowledge that she was a trifle disappointed for herself.

‘Mum?’

‘Is that you, dear?’

Her mother always asked the same question every evening, as if it was possible she was someone else calling her ‘Mum’.

Maxine opened the kitchen door where her mother was making supper.

‘Ah, there you are. I’m nearly ready.’ She tipped her cheek for her daughter’s kiss. ‘Go and call your father … Oh, there’s a letter for you.’

Maxine hung up her coat in the hall and picked up the envelope that was propped on the chiffonier behind an empty jug. She glanced at the large sprawling writing. Pearl. Hmm. Her cousin didn’t usually write unless she wanted something. She’d look at it later. For now she’d decided to talk to her parents. Tell them her idea. They needed time to digest this kind of plan.

Supper was quiet, as usual. Her father liked to eat in peace and it was rare for the three of them to have a conversation, let alone a serious discussion, unless Mickey was home. Then he’d talk non-stop and her mother would smile indulgently. Thank goodness Mickey wouldn’t be coming home yet. He’d have plenty to say about her announcement, throwing it in the worst possible light and alarming her mother. Maxine sighed. She would have to wait until she’d helped her mother clear the table and wash up. By then her father would be settled in his favourite armchair, smoking his pipe and listening to the wireless.

‘Are you quite well, Maxine?’ Her mother’s voice sounded anxious. ‘You haven’t finished your supper … it’s your favourite.’

She sent her mother an apologetic smile.

‘I think I’m a bit tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.’ She put another small forkful in her mouth but it stuck in her throat. She swallowed twice to dislodge it and laid her fork down. ‘It’s just that I want to tell you both something, though it’s not absolutely definite yet.’

Her mother looked across the table, her face suddenly wreathed in smiles. ‘Oh, my dear. How wonderful.’ She turned to Maxine’s father. ‘Isn’t it wonderful, Stan? Our little girl.’

Her father looked bemused. ‘Let her finish, Edna. She’s—’

‘I’m sure it’s definite,’ Maxine’s mother broke in. ‘And I’ve been hoping you wouldn’t keep us waiting too long.’ She sent her daughter a tender look. ‘That’s why you’ve lost your appetite.’

Whatever was her mother on about? But then the penny dropped. She thought her daughter was going to have a baby.

‘You’ll be giving up work now, won’t you?’ her mother went on. ‘I know what it’s like. You’ll need me to look after you.’

‘Mum, I’m not expecting, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

Her mother’s face visibly fell. ‘Well, of course that’s what I thought you meant. What else could it be?’

‘Let her tell us herself, Edna. Try not to keep interrupting.’ Her father’s tone was calm.

‘I’ve been thinking about going to St Thomas’ hospital in London … it has an excellent reputation … and now Johnny’s joined up, I fancy a change,’ she finished lamely.

There. She’d said it. Two pairs of wary eyes swivelled towards her.

‘You’re leaving us?’ Her mother’s voice rose as she reached in her apron pocket for her handkerchief. She blew loudly into the piece of white cloth. ‘We thought you were so happy at the Royal Infirmary.’ She emphasised the word. ‘That’s what you wanted.’

No, Mum – it was what you wanted, Maxine thought. I wanted to teach youngsters.

‘I’ve loved every minute there,’ she said instead. ‘But I think I’ll be more useful in London. That’s where the Germans will aim. For the docks.’

‘Liverpool will catch plenty as well, there’s no doubt of that.’ Her father swayed on the two back legs of his chair. ‘It’s a very important port strategically … our route to America, where we’ll be getting our supplies. A perfect target, I would think.’

‘It doesn’t alter what I’d like to do,’ Maxine said quietly. ‘You know I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’d like this to be my decision.’

Her father nodded. ‘Of course we wouldn’t stand in your way – you’re a married woman.’ He put his knife and fork neatly together on the plate and glanced across to his wife. ‘Very tasty, dear.’

‘I suppose you have told Johnny,’ her mother said, intuitive for once.

‘I’ve mentioned it.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘That’s between him and me,’ Maxine said, gently but firmly.

Her mother looked at her, astonished. But all she said was, ‘When do you plan to go?’ She rose to collect the dirty plates as though she couldn’t wait to get out of the room – didn’t want to hear Maxine’s answer.

‘I told you, Mum,’ Maxine said in exasperation, ‘I haven’t planned that far ahead. I don’t even know if there’s a vacancy. I imagine they’re short of nurses, but I wouldn’t leave here until they offered me a job – presumably I’d have to have an interview first.’

‘Hmm.’ Her mother’s lips pulled tight. ‘Let’s hope they don’t allow married women.’

Maxine made her excuse and left the table as soon as she could and went up to her room. Her unmade bed seemed to reprimand her, but she’d been in such a hurry this morning and hadn’t had time to make it. As she bent to pull the blankets up and plump the pillow, she felt Pearl’s letter sticking out of her skirt pocket. Ripping it open with her fingers, defying her father’s instructions to always use a proper paperknife and make a neat job of it, she pulled out the single sheet.

18th May, 1940

Dear Max,

I haven’t seen you lately, but I expect you’ve been busy at the hospital. I do hope you and Aunt and Uncle are well and that you’re enjoying your nursing. It sounds very romantic, looking after patients and getting them well.

I have some exciting news! I went for an audition last week to sing and dance in Better Days at the Empire and have got in!!! But rehearsals every day mean I’ll have to give up work. So I wonder if I can ask you for a teensy-weensy favour. Could you lend me some money to tide me over? Maybe £25? I think that would do it. Of course I’d pay you back at the first opportunity. I’m not a star or anything, but I have got quite a good part, though it won’t pay any more than Woolworth’s to begin with, and we don’t get paid until the show opens in six weeks’ time.

I didn’t really know anyone to ask in the family, but if you don’t have the cash, or are unwilling, I quite understand. But if you can help I’d be very grateful.

Much love,

Your cousin Pearl

XX

She might have known. And she did have some money tucked away. It was difficult to save anything from her modest wages after giving her mother ten shillings a week for her board, but she made some extra cash by doing sewing for some of the nurses in the evenings and weekends. Twenty-five pounds though would wipe out most of it. She’d need a buffer to pay for her fare to London and a bit over to manage with until she got paid at the end of her first week. That is, if she got an offer.

No, it was impossible. She might be able to lend her cousin a fiver, but no more. And she wouldn’t trust the post. She’d go and see Pearl tomorrow evening, straight from work.

Chapter Three

Maxine took the tram to Bold Street where Pearl lived, still in two minds how much to lend her. Her cousin’s lodgings consisted of two rooms and a shared bathroom above a fish and chip shop. As she approached the building she noticed four lads huddled together on top of a pile of planks on the shop’s windowsill, poring over a newspaper. She hid a smile. They couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, she thought, but they were intently reading the headlines. They didn’t even look up as she brushed past them and entered the shop. The stale smell of fried dripping immediately filled her nostrils.

‘We haven’t seen you for a time, young Maxine,’ Mr Rowe glanced up from his deep-fat frying pan, his face red from the heat and his greying moustache bristling as he beamed at her.

‘I’ve been very busy at the hospital and don’t get a lot of time off.’

‘How’s that husband of yours?’

Maxine sighed. ‘I haven’t heard for the past two weeks so can only hope he’s all right.’ She needed to change the subject quickly. ‘Do you know if Pearl’s in?’

‘Far as I know.’ He deftly removed some sizzling pieces of fish and laid them out in the warming cabinet. ‘She’s already been in for her lunch.’ He nodded. ‘Go on through, love.’

Maxine stepped through the back of the shop and climbed a flight of stairs. She could still hear muffled sounds of the traffic inside the building, but even though Pearl’s rooms were in the centre of a noisy commercial district she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy. Pearl lived on her own – answerable to no one. She did exactly what she wanted and blow everyone else. She’d been expelled from school for smoking and her parents had had no control over her whatsoever. Maxine believed her aunt and uncle were secretly relieved when their daughter was off their hands. But Pearl hadn’t until now been able to fulfil her dream of going on the stage. Her parents had done their best to persuade her to learn shorthand and typewriting but being in an office was the last thing Pearl was going to do. Instead she’d accepted a job in the haberdashery department of Woolworth’s, much to their shame.

She and Pearl were different in every way, Maxine mused, but they’d always been friends, against both mothers’ wishes. Her mother was forever warning Maxine that Pearl was a bad influence and not to spend too long in her company.

Guiltily, she realised she hadn’t visited Pearl since her wedding, though the lapse was nothing to do with her mother’s comments. Maxine had had several months of nights at the hospital and it had been difficult to fit in social visits with trying to sleep in the daytime – almost impossible in a small terraced house.

Bits of lino were missing on some of the treads of the second flight of stairs to Pearl’s quarters, and once Maxine caught her heel, ripping it a little further. A baby cried and the smell of soiled babies’ napkins from one of the first-floor flats wafted up, but she was used to worse when she walked through the babies’ ward. She knocked and instantly the door opened. There stood Pearl looking lovely as always in a navy straight skirt that slimmed her eager curves and a bright pink top with scooped neckline and short sleeves. High heels raised her a little nearer Maxine’s height. Her grin nearly split her face in two.

‘Max! What a lovely surprise. I didn’t expect you to come over this quickly. You’re lucky I’m here. Come on in.’

She stood aside while Maxine brushed past her into the one large room with a kitchenette at one end. Pearl had a bedroom and use of a box room off the landing, and shared a bathroom with the family downstairs. Although Pearl kept it clean enough, the room was terribly untidy; so different from the way Maxine’s house-proud mother kept her home. She mustn’t compare. This was homely and friendly, which Maxine didn’t always feel in her own house.

‘Take your jacket off. I’ll make some tea. Or would you like something stronger?’ Her cousin sent her a mischievous smile. ‘A gin and orange?’

‘No, thanks. But tea would be lovely.’

Pearl filled the kettle and put it on to boil, all the while talking to Maxine.

‘Nursing seems to suit you.’ She turned to have a closer look at her cousin. ‘Or is it married life you’ve taken to?’ she asked, a chuckle escaping her full lips. ‘Can’t believe it’s been nearly a year since the wedding when I last saw you.’

‘I could count on two hands how many days Johnny and I have spent together,’ Maxine said, ruefully.

‘Yeah, but what about the nights? That’s the bit I want to hear about.’

Maxine laughed. ‘I don’t think it’s all people make out.’

‘Hmm … maybe not, if it’s not with the right person.’ Pearl frowned as she measured out one-and-a-half level teaspoons of tea in the pot and poured the boiling water over the leaves. She popped a tea cosy over the teapot and looked up. ‘I always thought Johnny was more a brother than a boyfriend. No one was more surprised than me when I got the invitation to say you were marrying him. Sounded like a hurried decision to me. I even wondered if you’d got a pea in the pod.’

Maxine couldn’t help laughing. Pearl always prided herself on calling a spade a spade.

‘Not then or now,’ she said. ‘I’ve little time for that, though Johnny would love it if I did. But I want to continue my training and eventually do my finals before I even think about starting a family.’

She felt Pearl give her a sharp look. ‘And how does Johnny feel about that?’

‘He’s not keen,’ Maxine admitted. ‘But I think I’ve talked him round.’

Pearl shook her head. ‘It’s impossible to talk any man round,’ she said firmly as she set out the tea tray.

‘Let me help,’ Maxine offered.

‘No, you sit there. I know what it’s like to be on your feet all day.’ Pearl brought the tray over and poured out the two cups. ‘Biscuit?’

Maxine shook her head. ‘I had an early supper in the canteen.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, enough of me. It’s you I’ve come to talk about.’

‘You got my letter?’ Pearl sucked in her breath as though bracing herself for her cousin’s answer.

‘Yes, I did. And congratulations for getting through the audition. That was marvellous news. I know it’s what you’ve always wanted, ever since you were a little girl and made us act out your stories with strange costumes and props.’

‘Being an only child, I had to make do with you as my nearest playmate.’ Pearl grinned. ‘We had fun, didn’t we?’

‘We certainly did.’ Maxine chuckled. ‘Until you moved over the other side of town. I can’t believe how the time’s gone. All those years ago. And now you’ve become a real actress. What did your parents say when you told them?’

Pearl’s face fell. ‘They’ve washed their hands of me. My father said he’s not going to come and see it. Mam didn’t exactly say that, but you know how she always does what he says.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. But they’re a bit old-fashioned. You have to see it from their point of view.’

‘Well, I’m not letting them stop me. It’s my dream and I’m going to grab it with both hands.’

‘Have you started rehearsals yet?’

‘Next week.’ Pearl gulped her tea and set down her cup and saucer on a small table by her chair. ‘I’ve met most of the cast. They seem a nice crowd.’ She looked at Maxine. ‘I’ve had to give my notice in at Woolworth’s.’

‘What did they say?’

‘Oh, they were sorry to lose me … that sort of thing. They did give me an extra week’s wages, which I didn’t expect.’ She withdrew a packet of cigarettes from her handbag and took two out, offering one to Maxine who shook her head. Pearl lit it and inhaled deeply. ‘I hope you didn’t mind me asking, Max … about the money.’ She looked directly at Maxine.

‘No, I didn’t mind. The only problem is, I’ll need some extra money myself because I’m thinking of transferring to St Thomas’ hospital in London.’

Pearl raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh? Any particular reason?’

‘I want to specialise in heart diseases, and they’re known for it.’

Pearl narrowed her eyes. ‘The truth now.’

Maxine’s face flooded with heat.

‘You’ve been married less than a year and Johnny’s away practically all the time so you can’t feel stifled.’ She stared at Maxine. ‘Or is it Aunt Edna and Uncle Stan?’

‘Well, it’s time I broke from them,’ Maxine said, a little pink that Pearl had grasped the main reason for going. ‘After all, I am married, and if Johnny hadn’t joined up we’d have our own place by now. It doesn’t even feel as though I’m married when I’m still living at home.’

‘I can’t blame you there.’ Pearl was thoughtful for once. ‘No, of course you need your bit of cash. I’ll manage all right – something will turn up – it always does.

‘I’ve got nearly thirty pounds put by.’ Pearl’s mouth opened in amazement. Maxine looked at her cousin. She had to do a bit more to help her. ‘So I’m willing to share it with you – fifteen pounds each. Will that help?’

Pearls’s face broke into a beam. ‘That would be marvellous, Max … but are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. Far be it from me putting obstacles in the way of my cousin’s forthcoming fame.’ She smiled.

Pearl jumped from her chair and hugged Maxine. ‘You’re a real pal, besides being my favourite cousin.’

‘I believe I’m your only cousin.’ Maxine grinned, hugging her in return.

Pearl laughed. ‘You know I’ll pay you back.’

‘You don’t have to. Regard it as a present … my faith in your acting and singing abilities. Just make sure I get given a ticket to this first show. What’s it about anyway?’

‘It’s a musical called Better Days. I do a bit of singing and dancing, mainly in the chorus. Thanks so much.’ She kissed Maxine’s cheek. ‘I really mean it, Max. You’re a darling. And if I can ever return the favour … you know you’ve only got to ask.’

Chapter Four

Maxine rushed upstairs to read Johnny’s latest letter in the privacy of her bedroom. Sometimes they were censored and someone would black out words or even whole sentences. In the last letter, he mentioned he was going abroad but couldn’t say any more, but in this one he sounded excited and told her not to worry if she didn’t hear from him for some time. Something big was on. He finished off:

But if anything should happen to me, Max darling, be happy knowing I wanted to do the right thing and fight for my country. And don’t waste a minute of your life.

All my love, and can’t wait to see you again.

Always your Johnny xxx

She looked at the date – 8th May, but the postmark was blurred. It had taken nearly three weeks to arrive. This was the first time Johnny had hinted that he might not make it. Maxine chewed her bottom lip as she carefully folded his letter and put it back into the envelope. What if he was severely injured? Needing her. She’d never forgive herself if she wasn’t there for him. Momentarily, she closed her eyes. London was out of the question.

The following day, she was in the nurses’ common room when she picked up the Daily Express one of the other nurses had tossed aside. The headlines shouted triumphantly:

TENS OF THOUSANDS SAFELY HOME ALREADY

Many more coming by day and night

SHIPS OF ALL SIZES DARE THE GERMAN GUNS

Conscious she was due back on the ward in ten minutes, she skimmed the article. Every possible vessel which sailed had been sent out to rescue the men … the British, French and Allied troops trapped on the French coast. Her heart missed a beat. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that Johnny was on the other side of the Channel – in Dunkirk. And try as she might, she couldn’t picture him stepping into one of the rescue boats. He would always see that others go before him – inherent in his medical training.

Maybe she was allowing her imagination to run wild. She turned the page, desperate to read more, but there were other stories of battles and no more mention of Dunkirk.

Maxine scanned the papers every day, obsessed with the story. It was the longest week and by the 4th June over 300,000 soldiers had been brought back to British shores. Lists of names of those rescued were published every day, but she never saw Johnny Taylor’s name amongst them. Of course she had no proof he was even at Dunkirk. But she didn’t need proof. His letters had stopped and, as far as she was concerned, that was enough. She was only thankful she’d never applied to St Thomas’. Johnny would need to know she was close by when he returned.

It was hard to push Johnny to the back of her mind and care for her patients. Injured men and women were coming into the hospital every single day, and every time she dreaded it would be Johnny they brought in on a stretcher. She was still convinced he was in Dunkirk and hadn’t been rescued and tried to ask around on how she could find any information but no one seemed to have any idea.

‘You could try the Red Cross,’ Sister Marshall suggested when she came across Maxine in tears one day in the nurses’ room. ‘They are the ones who send information to families when British soldiers are injured …’ she hesitated, ‘or dead. I think they’d be your best bet.’

But she had no luck there either. Until a fortnight later when she received a letter from them. With a lump in her throat, she read:

Dear Mrs Taylor,

We are very sorry to inform you that your husband, Cpl. John L Taylor has been taken prisoner by the German Army at Dunkirk. He bravely volunteered to remain so he could attend to his wounded comrades. When there is more news we will, of course, let you know.

Yours sincerely,

Mary Jackson (Mrs)

Welfare Officer

Maxine swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump. She was right. He had been sent to Dunkirk. Dear Johnny. Whatever must he have felt, seeing the ships rescuing thousands of soldiers and he wasn’t one of them. But it seemed he’d made the decision, just as she expected he would. Maxine felt a sting behind her eyes. Yes, he was brave, and she could well imagine him doing just that.

Another agonising fortnight passed with no more news. Maxine was in the ward helping a patient to walk to the toilet, grateful that she was a slight woman, though she still weighed heavily on her arm, when Sister Marshall came up to her, a look of concern in her eyes.

‘I’ll take Mrs Harvey, Nurse. There’s a telegram for you in Matron’s office.’

She knew. Cold sweat beaded her forehead. She didn’t even have to open the telegram. She reprimanded herself. Until she heard otherwise she mustn’t crumple. Mustn’t think the worst. It might be him and he was writing to say he was safe. But she knew any form of contact from him would not be in the form of a telegram.

With hammering heart she half ran down the corridor.

‘Nurse!’ A Sister she didn’t know held her hand in the air. ‘I must remind you – you may only run for fire or haemorrhage.’

‘I’m sorry, Sister.’

Her feet now feeling like lead, she knocked on Matron’s door.

‘Come in.’ Matron looked up. ‘Oh, yes, Nurse Taylor. Do sit down.’

Maxine’s knees felt they would give way at any moment. Defeated, she sat and caught her breath.

‘A telegram has arrived for you.’ Matron handed her a blue envelope.

With trembling hands Maxine took the telegram. Even before she saw the word ‘priority’ written on the envelope, she knew …

‘If you’d like to take a moment and read it quietly, I’ll leave you to it.’ Matron disappeared out of the door. ‘Call me if you need me. I won’t be far away.’

Her fingers could barely work under the seal to open it. Heart pounding in her throat, she pulled out the sheet of paper with the printed message.

From Lieutenant-Colonel J. A. Donaldson

6th July 1940

Dear Mrs Taylor,

May I be permitted to express my sincere sympathy with the sad news concerning your husband Cpl. John L Taylor. I regret to say that we have been notified today via the Swiss Red Cross of his death from pneumonia.

Your husband was an exemplary soldier and his loss is deeply regretted by us all.

When we receive any of his effects they will be forwarded on to you.

Once again please accept the deep sympathy of us all.

Yours very sincerely,

J. Anthony Donaldson

The paper fluttered to the floor. Maxine couldn’t summon the energy to bend down and pick it up. A terrible shaking took hold of her body. She dropped her head in her hands, gasping to hold back the sobs. She mustn’t break down. She needed to look after her patients. They relied on her.

She heard the door open and the solid figure of Matron step in.

‘Oh, my dear … it’s bad news, isn’t it?’

Maxine nodded, speechless.

‘Your husband?’

‘Yes.’ It was a whisper.

‘I’m sending you home right away. Take two days off.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t …’

‘We’ll manage, if that’s what’s worrying you.’ Matron put a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up. Matron’s face was creased in sympathy.

‘Please let me go back to the ward, Matron.’ Maxine forced herself to speak calmly. ‘I’ll be better if I can work. I’ll have plenty of time to think about it when I’m off-duty.’

‘Very well.’ Matron became brisk. ‘But I insist you go to the canteen and have a strong cup of tea with sugar. You’re in shock, my dear, though you may not realise it. And if you are not feeling better tomorrow, please stay at home.’

Somehow she got through the day, even forgetting for a few minutes at a time about the telegram and the terrible news. And then it would sweep over her in a sickening cloud. Johnny – her dearest friend since childhood. She would never see him again. Never look into his twinkling brown eyes. Never laugh at his feeble jokes.

She delivered the last bedpan to an elderly lady who reminded her of her headmistress. A hard-faced woman with frizzy grey curls and bitter lines around her mouth, who was furious to be forced to use such an item for her private ablutions.

Maxine pulled the curtains around the patient and tucked the bedpan under the cover. ‘There you are, Mrs Shepherd. I’ll be back shortly.’

‘See that you do, Nurse.’ Mrs Shepherd looked at Maxine with reproachful eyes, as though it were her fault. ‘I waited a full quarter of an hour this morning before someone came to take it away.’

That evening, Maxine stepped into the hall and her mother came out immediately, her face red, all of a fluster.

‘My dear, was it bad news?’

Maxine felt caught off guard. How did her mother know something had happened before she did?

‘The telegram boy brought it here and I told him you were at the Infirmary.’ She took her daughter’s coat and hung it on the rack. ‘It’s Johnny, isn’t it?’

‘Let me tell you and Dad together, Mum.’

‘I’d better make us all a cup of tea.’

A brandy would be more like it, Maxine thought, but she simply nodded and her mother disappeared into the kitchen.

She found her father in his chair in the sitting room reading his newspaper, glasses slipping down his nose, his favourite slippers with a hole in each toe encasing socks which she’d had to snip the tops off to make room for his poor swollen ankles. He rose up with difficulty and gave her a hug.

‘Your mother says a telegram came here for you, but she sent the boy to the hospital.’

‘It’s very bad news,’ Maxine began as her mother appeared with the tea tray. She felt the tears prick at the back of her eyes. She must keep calm. Must let them know she was being sensible and not acting impulsively. ‘Johnny’s dead.’ There was no other way to say it.

Her mother’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I knew it … I just knew it. As soon as he’d been taken by those dreadful Germans. Didn’t I tell you, Stan?’

Her father gave a long sigh. ‘Yes, you did, dear.’ He turned to his daughter. ‘And I’m very sorry to hear it, Maxine. He was a good lad and thought the world of you. Did they give you any details?’

‘Yes.’ Maxine’s voice was almost a whisper. ‘Pneumonia.’

‘Oh, the poor boy.’ A tear spilled down her mother’s cheek. ‘Well, at least you’ve got us. We’ll look after you at home and help you through.’

‘Thanks, Mum, and I really mean it, but I’ve decided to apply to St Thomas’.’

‘You’re not going on about moving to London again?’ Her mother’s eyes were wide. ‘You don’t want to make a decision as important as this without more time. You’ve had a terrible shock, dear, and you’re not thinking straight.’

‘I am, Mum. Everywhere I look around here reminds me of Johnny—’ She broke off, her voice trembling. ‘I must go and see his parents. They’ll be heartbroken … their only son. Oh, it’s not fair. It’s just not fair.’

Her eyes swimming, she banged her cup on its saucer and rushed out of the room, but not before she heard her father say, ‘Leave her be, Edna. She’s old enough to make her own decision. The change is probably just what she needs to take her mind off things.’

Maxine heard back from St Thomas’ within a few days. They were interested! Because of the war, provided she had references from the hospital, they weren’t going to waste time interviewing her. There was a desperate shortage of nurses so they would like her to start as soon as she could give in her notice. They had every reason to believe that her initial training at the Royal Infirmary was first class and that she’d be a real asset at St Thomas’ as a nurse at their Nightingale School for the next two years. Would she let them know by return that she was still interested so they could prepare her paperwork?

It had happened. One letter to the hospital had led to her life changing – but only because her dearest Johnny had died. She swallowed. She was determined to do her best in this war, whatever the cost. She owed it to him.

As soon as she had given in her notice, Sister said in view of the circumstances she could leave as soon as she was ready. A fortnight later the arrangements were in place. And then it was her last day. Maxine had said her goodbyes to the other nurses and patients and as she was about to leave by the staff door, Sister Dugdale stopped her and put a small package in her hands.

‘From all of us on the ward,’ she said. ‘You’ve worked hard,’ she continued, her voice as crisp as her cap and apron. ‘The makings of an excellent nurse so long as you don’t get carried away with your emotions. It’s difficult, I know … perhaps the most difficult, but it’s vital you don’t get personally involved with individual patients to the point where you can’t do a professional job.’

Maxine knew Sister was referring to Robin, only six, on the children’s ward. The child had been run over in the blackout and they said his injuries were so bad he probably wouldn’t survive. But he had. Maxine had been determined that he would pull through. His parents were constantly at his bedside, but when they left for the day she would talk to him, give him sips of Lucozade, read to him. Her reward was that he slowly recovered and her favourite time of the day was when she came on duty and his face lit up in a beaming smile. She could have hugged him to bits. Three days before his discharge she’d come on duty to find his bed freshly made up.

‘Have they already sent Robin home?’ she’d asked, happy that the day had come, but disappointed she hadn’t been there to say goodbye.

There was a few seconds’ silence. A tension in the ward. Maxine looked at Fuller and White, the two other nurses. Then Fuller said in a low voice, ‘He died in the night.’

She’d run to the toilets and sat on the seat, sobbing her eyes out. Eventually she got up and combed her hair and arranged her cap. She looked terrible. Eyes puffy and red. Sister was sharp with her, and she thought at the time what a hard woman Sister was. But experience taught her differently. Sister was right. She probably didn’t have the perfect temperament to be a nurse, but she’d do her level best, especially now they really were at war. And if one day she could become a children’s nurse, it might be her salvation.

The night before Maxine left home for London there was something she needed to do. She knew it would take all her courage.

‘I think I’ll have an early night,’ she told her parents after the three of them had spent an awkward evening in the front room, none of them knowing quite what to say.

‘I don’t blame you, love.’ Her father smiled sympathetically, his eyes full of affection. ‘You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow, and an early train to catch.’

‘I’ll say goodnight then.’

In her bedroom Maxine reached for the top shelf in her wardrobe and removed a shoebox, laying it on the bed. She lifted the lid to reveal Johnny’s letters in a neat pile – and a navy blue ring box. She took the ring box out, then gently removed her engagement ring, remembering when Johnny had first slipped it on her finger. Emeralds were said to be unlucky and it had turned out to be true, she thought sadly.

‘Goodbye, Johnny,’ she spoke aloud, the words almost choking her. ‘I’ve loved you since I was eight, but I must leave you now to rest in peace.’

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she kissed the ring and pressed it in its slot. The lid made a final snap as she closed it and laid the little box on top of Johnny’s letters. Satisfied, she slid the shoebox back on the shelf in the wardrobe. The ring would be safe there.

Chapter Five

London, July 1940

As Maxine hurried over Westminster Bridge, she tilted her head skywards to the faint sound of a plane, but there was nothing in sight except two contrails crisscrossing a flight path. The Battle of Britain had started a few days before, raging over Kent and the coast. Her mother had begged her to stay in Liverpool, but stubbornly she’d kept to her plan. Hardly giving the Thames more than a cursory glance, Maxine paused a moment on the bridge to check the folded letter in her hand. Yes, St Thomas’ was directly opposite the Houses of Parliament.

A few minutes later she passed through the imposing front entrance of the red-brick hospital. No sooner had she stepped in and given her name at the front desk than a tall, thin woman with a blue and white uniform which crackled when she walked marched up to her. There was no smile of welcome and Maxine’s heart plummeted.

‘Taylor, I presume. I’m Sister Dawson, standing in today for the Home Sister, Miss Harley. We’re expecting you. In fact,’ she made a play of looking at the watch on her chain, ‘you’re half an hour late. I believe we said three o’clock.’

This wasn’t a good beginning. Maxine was certain she was no more than five minutes late, but it wasn’t the time to argue.

‘I’m awfully sorry, Sister,’ she said. ‘The train stopped even more times than usual, and I don’t know London all that well so I got a bit confused.’

‘Hmm.’ The woman tossed her head in disbelief. ‘You couldn’t have a much better landmark than Big Ben.’ She looked Maxine up and down, her lips tightening as though to say that Maxine wouldn’t do at all. ‘Well, you’d better come with me and I’ll show you your room. You’ll be in the West Wing – that’s where the second- and third-year nurses live.’

Maxine followed her down long, gloomy corridors with so many twists and turns she had no idea which direction she was going. Finally Sister opened one of a dozen identical doors.

‘You’ll be sharing with Nurse Redding.’ She glared at Maxine. ‘And no smoking. That’s an order.’

‘I don’t smoke,’ Maxine said, feeling like a probationer instead of a second-year nurse.

‘Be in my office in ten minutes,’ Sister Dawson ordered, closing the door with a loud click.

Maxine sat on the furthest bed, where the area didn’t appear to be occupied, and looked around. Except for a photograph and a book on the other bedside cupboard, and a cape flung over a chair to show some sign of life, the room was as gloomy as the corridors. The bedspread was a khaki colour and the curtains weren’t much fresher looking. Even though it was still July the room felt cold. She shivered and unpacked her case, hanging up the few pieces on the wooden hangers provided in the shallow cupboard next to the other nurse’s clothes, and berating herself. She’d made completely the wrong decision but there was simply no going back; she’d have to live with it. She only hoped the other nurse would be nice.

Slowly Maxine unpacked her small case and undid the little parcel Sister Dugdale had given her. It was a small green Bakelite clock. She immediately wound it up and placed it on the bedside table. Somehow, its friendly little face and cheerful sound of ticking made Liverpool seem not quite so far away.

Suddenly the door opened and a slim young nurse, short in stature, with dark curls, her cap slightly askew, stood in the doorway smiling.

‘Oh, good, you’ve arrived.’ She came in and quickly closed the door behind her, then thrust out her hand. ‘I’m Anna Redding. Welcome to the fray.’

‘Maxine Taylor.’ She took Anna’s warm, strong hand in hers.

‘I hate all this surname business even when we’re off-duty,’ Anna said, ‘and I think we’re going to be great pals, so let’s always call one another Maxine and Anna. What do you think?’

‘I’d really like that,’ Maxine said sincerely. It was a long time since she’d had a proper girlfriend, and now that Johnny … She wouldn’t allow herself to finish that thought.

‘Have you been assigned a ward yet?’ Anna asked.

‘No. I’ve got to see Sister Dawson right away. I expect she’ll tell me … or rather order me.’

‘That’s Dragon Dawson to a tee,’ Anna laughed, her hazel eyes sparkling mischievously.

‘Perfect name,’ Maxine chuckled, as she opened their bedroom door.

‘Good luck!’ Anna called. ‘And see you later in the canteen.’

Maxine’s first day began at 7.30 on the dot in Women’s Surgical with the Staff Nurse greeting her, ‘Oh, not another new one. I’d hoped I was getting someone with experience.’ She looked Maxine up and down and pursed her lips. ‘I suppose you’ll have to do. We’re extremely busy, so buck up and set to. The doctors will be doing their rounds at nine and everything has to be spotless.’

Nothing Maxine had done had been right. She was spending too much time with one of the patients, Mrs Roberts, who had undergone the removal of her childbearing apparatus and could not stop crying; she’d missed a piece of fluff under the bed when she’d mopped there; she’d been about to give the wrong tablets to one of the patients with the same surname as the lady in the far corner … By the time Staff Nurse reluctantly said she could have her long afternoon break, Maxine was almost in tears.

‘Two hours and not a minute longer. And before you ask – you’ll finish at eight this evening.’

Maxine assured her she’d be back in the ward promptly.

In the canteen, she grabbed a bowl of soup and spied Anna waving for her to sit at her table.

‘Good,’ Anna said approvingly, looking at Maxine’s bowl. ‘I chose the soup to be fast as well. Let’s hurry and then we can go to the park and have a natter – get out of this racket for an hour. I’ve done nothing but change beds and clean lockers and give out and empty bedpans this morning in Men’s. Ugh!’ She pulled a face, making Maxine laugh. ‘And what have you been up to?’

‘Nothing any more exciting than you,’ Maxine admitted. ‘The worst part is the Staff Nurse.’

‘Jenkins?’

Maxine nodded.

‘She’s a tartar. Only been here a month and wants to exercise her authority. Don’t take any notice. Keep your head down and you’ll be all right.’

The afternoon was even worse. Maxine had to sit at a table with two trainees and stitch sanitary towels. She thought she would scream with boredom, and the two young nurses looked equally fed up.

‘Push that mop of yours right under your cap, Baker,’ the Staff Nurse admonished one of them, a girl with beautiful red curls, as she swept by. ‘You look like someone on the stage.’ She hesitated and looked at Maxine. ‘And you, Taylor, I need you to do the rest of the blanket baths we didn’t get round to this morning because you spent too long chatting to the patients.’

Maxine bit back a retort.

That night in bed, tired out though she was, Maxine tossed and turned. A few feet away she could hear Anna’s regular breathing. How she envied her new friend. All she could think about was Johnny. Johnny dying, with no one to hold his hand. She began to cry, softly at first, and then her body racked with her sobs, and her tears drenched the thin, flat pillow.

She sensed, rather than saw, Anna leap out of bed and rush towards her. A hand stroked her hair.

‘Don’t cry, Maxine. The first few days are always the worst.’

‘It’s not that.’ Maxine’s voice was muffled in her pillow.

‘What is it then? You can tell me. I’m a good listener.’

Maxine struggled to sit up, tears still falling. ‘You don’t want to hear all my woes. Everyone’s got troubles at the moment.’

‘Let’s make a pact right now,’ Anna said. ‘We’ll always trust one another to be able to say whatever is troubling us. Me, as well as you.’ She stuck her hand out. ‘Come on, shake hands.’

Maxine put out a trembling hand and Anna took it in her own warm one.

‘Now, tell me what’s the matter. It’s bound to be a man, isn’t it?’

Maxine nodded. ‘I’ve lost my best friend.’ She squeezed Anna’s hand without realising. ‘He … Johnny … I’ve known him since we were children and now he’s dead.’ She lowered her head as she broke into sobs.

‘What happened?’ Anna gently touched her shoulder.

‘He was taken prisoner at Dunkirk, and then he died of pneumonia.’

Anna produced a handkerchief. ‘Here, blow your nose.’ Maxine blew. ‘It’s horrible. Women losing their men because of that rotten little man with his ridiculous moustache.’

Maxine turned her head to see Anna’s own eyes fill. ‘You sound like you’ve lost someone too.’

‘My dad.’ Anna’s voice was flat. ‘He was a fireman and he’d just rescued a family from a burning building and then … a piece of burning timber fell on him, killing him instantly.’

‘Oh, Anna, I’m so sorry.’

‘But we’re not talking about me,’ Anna said firmly, ‘and it sounds trite, but the pain does lessen with time.’ She looked sharply at Maxine. ‘Did you fall in love with your Johnny when you were adults, by any chance?’

‘I loved him deeply, but I’m not sure I was in love with him,’ Maxine admitted. ‘But he persuaded me to marry him because of the war.’

Anna’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh, my goodness. I should have realised – you’re wearing a wedding ring. So you’re now a widow?’

‘I was married such a short time I hardly felt married, let alone widowed. I just feel a horrible black hole where Johnny ought to be.’

‘Bugger this war,’ Anna said, hugging her. ‘No one can ever take the place of anyone, but I’ll do my damnedest to be the best friend ever. You’re not alone now. You’ve got me. Just remember that.’

Chapter Six

September 1940

If it hadn’t been for Anna’s kindness, making sure she wasn’t left alone on her time off, and cheering her up with her impersonations of some of the senior staff, Maxine didn’t think she would have made it through those first difficult weeks grieving for Johnny and feeling guilty for leaving her parents. But Anna, it seemed, refused to let anything get her down – not the notorious Sister Dawson who did her best to make the second-year nurses’ lives as miserable as she possibly could, nor the complaining patients, nor the horrific injuries they were constantly faced with. And after her first month, with Anna’s support, Maxine began to feel she might be a very small but worthy cog in the very large wheel that was St Thomas’.

At the start of the month she was sent to Female Chronic where the patients were mostly grannies who’d been put in cot-beds until they died. There was little to amuse them – they only lived for their sons’ and daughters’ visits that were all too brief, the grown-up children needing to get back to their own families before the blackout. Maxine felt sorry for the elderly patients, as many of them were having one-sided conversations with long-departed relatives. Most days Mrs Jason conversed happily with her son who’d fallen in Flanders. Afterwards she would dissolve in tears and Maxine would sit with her and hold her hand, letting her ramble on, even though she knew she would be reprimanded for wasting time if Staff Nurse walked in. The old lady’s only other bright moment was her nightly Ovaltine.

One evening Maxine was making Mrs Jason a cup, and one for herself and Bennett, the other night nurse, when she heard the distant throb of engines and at the same time the sirens went off. Her hand shook as though with the vibration and some of the liquid slopped over from Bennett’s cup.

‘German,’ Maxine breathed.

‘How can you tell?’

Even though it was almost dark, Maxine could see Bennett’s face had grown pale.

‘By the way the hum isn’t one continuous sound,’ Maxine answered, putting the cup down. As she did so there was the most tremendous bang, followed by the sound of an explosion and what sounded like the shattering of a thousand windows. Dear God, this was close. Her hand trembling, she banged the kettle down.

Elderly patients in their dressing gowns and slippers were wandering in from the ward next door, looking dazed. One man shouted, ‘We’ve been hit!’

What should she do? If another bomb fell a fraction closer, it could wipe out the whole ward. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead under her cap, and Maxine raised her hand to wipe them away. Her heart beat madly.

‘Stay here, Nurse Taylor, and keep the patients calm.’ It was Sister Mason. ‘I’m going to see where the damage is.’

Ovaltine forgotten, Maxine and Bennett briskly did the rounds of those patients who were still in bed, helpless as babies as they lay in their cots. Just as Maxine was trying to comfort an agitated Mrs Jason, the Home Sister stuck her head in the doorway.

‘I’m afraid the Nurses’ Wing has been hit.’ Her usual kindly expression was replaced by shock. ‘I’m just going to let the other wards know.’ She disappeared.

Maxine froze. Dear God, the Nurses’ Wing. Anna! She would be sleeping in their room – not on duty until the morning. Oh, Anna, please be safe. And the others.

‘Bennett, will you wait here in the ward while I go and see.’ Maxine was galvanised into action as she tossed the words over her shoulder. Against all the rules, she flew down the unlit corridors, where a wall of dust greeted her, and managed to catch up with a crowd of hospital workers as they were speeding towards the West Wing.

‘There may be people trapped,’ one of the doctors said. ‘We must be prepared for the worst.’

Smoke filled Maxine’s throat as they came upon a scene of horror. The Nurses’ Wing was a heap of bricks. She couldn’t see over the top of the pile to what had been the far wall. There was no sign of life, no shouts or moans – nothing. Everyone stood, eyes wide, trying to take it in. Some of the women were crying. The stench of something burning which she dared not … could not name … filled her nostrils. Anna! She screamed her friend’s name but no sound came from her lips, only the taste of dust on her tongue.

‘They didn’t stand a bloody chance,’ one man finally broke the eerie silence, anger coating his words.

‘Must have been a really high explosive to do so much damage,’ said another.

Muffled explosions now barely registered, Maxine’s head was so blocked with fear for Anna. In one of the corners where they were standing was a heap of fallen timbers, sparking and flaring even as she watched momentarily before she came to her senses and grabbed the nearest man’s arm. She pointed, fear and dust choking her as she stuttered, ‘Fire!’

‘I believe someone’s gone to call the fire department,’ he said grimly, turning to her, ‘but until they come we need to be sure there’s no one still alive.’ He lifted his chin. ‘ANYBODY HERE?’ he roared, his words bouncing on the rubble. ‘ANYBODY HERE?’

To Maxine’s joy, she heard female voices.

‘Here! Please help! We’re here!’ They were calling from all directions.

It was as though a nerve force suddenly held everyone together, giving them a purpose. Maxine rushed forward with the crowd, tearing bricks and mortar away to get under and behind the ruin the explosion had left. Anna, hold on. Hold tight. We’re coming to get you. Don’t give up, please, Anna. I’m here.

As if they’d heard her shout the words aloud, the others began calling, ‘Hold on, there. We’ll get you out.’

Minutes later the first nurse stumbled out to a tremendous cheer, but this girl was too tall to be Anna. One by one the nurses worked their way through a gap which had been blocked by a huge storage cupboard. Surely Anna would be the next nurse. But no matter how Maxine peered, the thick black dust made the nurses almost unrecognisable. Blood stained their pyjamas and faces and hands. One girl, who she’d thought for a wonderful moment was Anna, was bleeding from her arm, but all of them shook their heads, warding off any concern.

‘There are two nurses still left – they’re in a bad way,’ another nurse said, her short hair matted with blood. ‘Please help them.’

‘Have you seen Anna Redding?’ Maxine pleaded, strangling a sob and coughing as the dust caught in her throat.

The nurse shook her head.

‘They’ll be on the other side of the gap.’ A porter Maxine recognised sprang forward with two other men. She started to rush after them, but another man dragged her back.

‘You’ll only be in the way,’ he said not unkindly. ‘You’ll be needed when they’re all found.’

Maxine heard the pounding of feet. Men’s voices. Oh, thank God, the firemen were here.

‘Stand back,’ one of them ordered. ‘Clear some space.’

After what seemed like hours to Maxine, desperately trying to quell the nausea which threatened, the rescuers emerged carrying the two injured nurses between them. No sound came from the limp bodies. Neither of them was Anna.

‘Redding.’ Maxine’s eyes swam in frightened tears as she shook the arm of a plump-faced girl. ‘Anna Redding. Have you seen her?’

‘I wouldn’t know her.’

‘There are others still missing besides Redding,’ one girl with a gash on her forehead hissed.

Tears poured down Maxine’s cheeks. The worst, it seemed, had happened.

Matron made an official announcement the following morning.

‘Out of the thirty-two nurses who were sleeping in the West Wing last night when the bomb made a direct hit, I am thankful to announce that only four girls died, and one, Lois Jenkins, who is seriously injured but stable, and we are optimistic for her full recovery. That doesn’t decry the sacrifice those girls made, but it could have been even worse. We could have lost all or many more of our wonderful nurses.’ She paused. ‘Here are the names of those who died.’

Maxine held her breath while Matron adjusted her glasses.

‘Patricia Cooper, Jane Deveraux and Sally Grimshaw and Belinda Brown.’

Maxine stood alert, her nerves taut. Anna wasn’t on the list. Why? Where was she? A flicker of hope died at Matron’s next words.

‘Unfortunately, we haven’t found Anna Redding. We can only presume she died, as several of the nurses confirmed she was in the quarters with the others at the time the bomb went off. I will inform you when I hear of any further news. In the meantime, in case the Germans decide to have another shot at us tonight, I have asked the cleaners to prepare the basement. All of us, the whole hospital – except those on duty – and I mean doctors, nurses, cleaners, cooks, servicemen, and everyone in between – is to sleep down there tonight. I will inform you if there are to be any further changes.’

It wasn’t until the afternoon that Anna was pulled out of the rubble. Like the other four nurses, she’d been buried alive. Maxine swallowed the bile that kept coming up into her throat before she fled to the toilet and vomited until her stomach had nothing left to bring up. And then she wept. She wept for Anna and she wept for Johnny. Two wasted young lives within months of one another.

‘I’ll never forget either of you,’ she whispered, her hands folded together in prayer.

Maxine lay still, wondering why every bone ached. She stretched out her legs, grimacing as pain shot through them. She ran her tongue over her teeth. Her mouth felt gritty, dusty, stale. Where was she? What was that strange odour? Something rancid. So strong it turned her stomach.

She opened her eyes and lifted her neck, twisting it this way and that, hardly taking in the sight that met her stare. Fully dressed bodies were lying inches away from her, still sleeping, some of them actually snoring. Of course. She was in the basement of the hospital. Matron had ordered everyone to spend the night here, leaving only a skeletal staff above.

Maxine managed to raise herself to a sitting position and took in the incredible scene. Surgeons were pressed up against tea ladies and maids; Dr Shaw, who always barked his orders and was often rude to the nurses, had his head on the shoulder of the young trainee nurse in her ward. She wondered what he’d think when he woke up and realised who he’d slept with last night. Maybe he’d get the message that he wasn’t quite as important as he liked to make out. She couldn’t help the smile which hovered over her lips … that is, until she remembered poor Anna. Her dear friend. How she was going to miss her.

It was still early but several people were stirring and Maxine struggled to her feet.

‘What a night,’ John, one of the porters said, flexing his arms above his head and yawning.

‘Not the most comfortable, I have to say,’ someone else said. ‘But we’re the lucky ones.’

‘You can say that again.’

More staff were scrambling to their feet, giving one another wan smiles, probably feeling as foolish as Maxine that they’d spent the night in such proximity with one another, and now it was over they needed to get on with their normal duties.

And she needed to go back to her patients.

Two nights later, wailing sirens sent cold shivers down Maxine’s back as she desperately tried to help the patients to safety before terrifying explosions wiped out two whole blocks of the hospital. Wards were totally destroyed and Matron ordered everyone to transfer what seemed like the whole hospital to the basement.

Everyone had to work at top speed with the blackout still in strict force, even in the basement. Carrying a pile of linen, Maxine had almost careered into a wall.

‘It was those painted animals that saved me from a nasty collision,’ she told Bennett at breakfast next morning. ‘They certainly showed up in the dark.’

‘Oh, you’ve spotted the White Rabbits,’ Bennett laughed. ‘Bloody ingenious, if you ask me. Some chap, I think it was, painted them on the wall for just that reason – to save us all smashing into it.’ She swallowed a spoonful of porridge. ‘I see you’re down for the children’s ward for the next month – rather you than me. I hear the Staff Nurse is awful.’

‘I particularly asked for the transfer.’ Maxine smiled at Bennett’s raised eyebrows. The children’s ward was always the least favourite among the nurses, mainly because of the children’s distress caused by their parents either coming on visiting days and stirring them up, or not appearing at all. She didn’t bother to explain that she’d always wanted to work with children.

Staff Nurse Mayfield ordered Maxine to bath the children who were able to get out of bed. Her first patient was a scruffy, undernourished waif who had just been admitted with a body full of scabs, looking suspiciously like the results of chickenpox. If it was, at least now the spots were scabs he wouldn’t still be infectious. She would show them to Sister Mayfield after his bath.

‘You’re a girl and not s’posed to see my willy,’ the child shouted when she pulled his filthy underpants down.

‘I’m a nurse, so it doesn’t count,’ Maxine told him, biting her lip to hide a smile.

‘Why doesn’t it?’ His round blue eyes regarded her.

‘Because we’re trained especially to help children to get better.’

‘I don’t wanna go in the water. Mum never makes me. I don’t like it.’ His eyes were wide with fear.

‘We have to clean those nasty scabs or they’ll get worse and start itching and spreading.’

She quickly lifted him into the bath, and taking no notice of his screams, she soaped and rinsed him.

‘I can get out myself,’ he said, his face contorted as he struggled to put his thin legs over the side of the bath.

‘Well, you’re a big boy.’ Maxine smiled as she dried him. ‘And you’ve done well.’ She dabbed his tears away. ‘Can you tell me your name?’

‘Course I can,’ he said scornfully. ‘It’s John Smiff – but Mum calls me Johnny.’

Her eyes filled as she heard the little lad’s name and a tear rolled down her cheek. Quickly, she brushed it away.

‘Why are you crying, Miss?’ Johnny looked up at her, his eyes still wet. ‘Have they said you’ve got to have a bath now?’

Chapter Seven

September 1941

When Mr Churchill had announced at the end of May that the Blitz was over, and the Luftwaffe no longer pounded London and the Docklands every night, Maxine had a desperately needed reprieve. She’d been working twelve-hour shifts, covering for a nurse on sick leave as well as doing her own duties, with little time off in between – not enough to do much more than write letters home, keep up her laundry, and occasionally go to the pictures with one or more of the nurses she’d come to know in other wards. A pleasant Scot called Gillian was now in the next bed but kept herself to herself and Maxine was grateful. It would be a very long time before she’d open her heart to anyone else.

Going through the Blitz with the constant bombing which had caused further destruction at the hospital, the strain of always showing a calm exterior so as not to unsettle the patients every time they heard the siren, and without Anna’s cheerful approach to life, Maxine sometimes found the days difficult to get through.

Nevertheless, she’d looked forward to her few days off with her parents. They’d seemed pleased to have her home, but she could tell by her mother’s glances to her father that she was still puzzled their daughter had left them to fend for themselves.

Feeling she was letting them down, but thankful her father was no worse, Maxine was glad to get back to London.

‘Good to have you back, Taylor,’ Bennett said, immediately she set eyes on Maxine. ‘We’ve missed you with so few of us left.’

Maxine noticed the deep circles under the nurse’s eyes and felt a pang of guilt. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Bennett, I shouldn’t have gone – there was no emergency or anything at home.’

‘Don’t be daft. If anyone needed a break, you did.’ She looked at Maxine under her lashes. ‘Bit of a stir going on since you left.’

‘Oh, what?’ Maxine straightened her cap, barely summoning a grain of curiosity.

Bennett grinned. ‘I expect you’ll see soon enough.’

An hour later Maxine was chatting to Tom Jansen, a soldier who’d been badly wounded in the leg and had had to have it amputated. He’d been incredibly brave, keeping up her spirits every bit as much as she did his, and she was always impressed with his optimism.

‘Enough of the chit-chat, nurse. This is a hospital, not a social club.’

She jumped. Spun round. Looked up to a powerful jaw, hard mouth, and straight into granite-coloured eyes. Strong nose. Dark auburn hair was brushed back from his forehead. A face that meant business.

‘Excuse me, but—’ Maxine began.

‘Nurse was just—’ Tom interrupted, struggling to sit further up in his bed. Maxine automatically went to help him. ‘I’m all right, Nurse – honestly.’

The doctor whom she’d never seen before didn’t give the boy a glance. As if he’d never spoken. Instead, the steely eyes alighted on Maxine.

‘No excuses – there’s work to do, so get on with it.’ He swung away.

Maxine stared after his departing figure marching along the basement corridor, burning with fury. Even Matron never spoke to her so rudely. Where was Matron this morning anyway? She knew, if anyone did, that Maxine barely wasted a minute. What an overbearing … She couldn’t think of a strong enough word to describe him. Who did he think he was?

She tried to carry on with her normal duties but her heart quickened with annoyance every time she thought of the auburn-haired doctor. He obviously had no respect for nurses whatsoever, no bedside manner, no understanding that a little human contact which made them feel special and individual played a crucial part in a patient’s recovery. She needed to find out if he’d been temporarily transferred to her ward or, God help them, was going to be there permanently. If so … She didn’t want to think further, except that if he was, she was in for an even greater daily challenge.

But to Maxine’s surprise, not everyone thought the same way about the new addition to the department.

‘Isn’t he a dreamboat?’ Bennett’s eyes danced mischievously as she was about to take temperatures. She looked at Maxine. ‘You have met him, haven’t you?’

‘Met who?’ Maxine replied innocently, though she knew perfectly well now who Bennett was talking about.

‘Red.’

‘Red?’

‘You know. The new doctor.’ Bennett looked surprised Maxine didn’t seem to know who she was referring to.

‘It’s Mr Blake, as it happens,’ Sister admonished as she swept past to supervise the new probationers.

The two young women grinned at one another.

‘A surgeon, no less,’ Bennett said, her hand to her mouth to stifle the ready laugh. ‘Even better.’

‘No wonder he’s on his high horse,’ Maxine commented.

‘What makes you say that?’ Curiosity flickered across her colleague’s face.

‘He told me off for chatting to Tom. And when Tom tried to stick up for me he completely ignored him and carried on at me in a most arrogant manner. I thought he was horrible.’

‘Mmm.’ Bennett shot a look at her watch. ‘We need to continue this conversation this evening when we have some privacy.’

The buzz in the temporary canteen the Red Cross had organised after the bombings was even greater than usual. Maxine caught the name ‘Red’ several times from some giggling trainees at the next table.

‘Wonder if he’s as red hot as his name.’ A girl with bright golden curls escaping her cap laughed and gave a huge wink to her colleague opposite.

Maxine glared at them before burying her head in her book at the same time as eating her stew and dumplings, though it was difficult to concentrate with the volume of noise around her.

‘Is this seat taken?’

It was a deep voice, educated, richly coating the few words.

‘No, please … She barely looked up beyond the white coat buttoned to the neck, recognising his voice. She dropped her eyes to her book again, hoping he would leave her in peace.

‘Oh, didn’t I meet you earlier … in the men’s ward, wasn’t it?’ He set his tray on the table, removed the plate and cutlery, and propped the tray up against the table as he sat down, his piercing grey eyes fixed firmly upon her.

Damn. The arrogant surgeon. She was tempted to tell him it was the exact opposite of ‘wasting time’ that he’d accused her of, but she raised her head a few inches and looked directly at him.

‘I believe you spoke to me when I was with Mr Jansen.’ Ice dripped from the words as she made a pretence of dropping her eyes back to her book.

‘And your name?’

What a rude man. She bit her tongue to stop herself from giving him a sharp reply. She must never do anything, say anything, to get in the way of her Nightingale Badge. Be polite. However he tries to get your goat.

She placed her finger on the paragraph she was reading to let him know this was only going to be a brief interruption. ‘I’m Nurse Taylor.’ Immediately the image of Johnny sprang to her mind. She blinked.

‘Christian name?’ he practically barked.

Her hands made a fist underneath the table. ‘Maxine.’

‘Maxine,’ he repeated and jerked his head towards her book. ‘What are you reading?’

She looked across at him, irritation bubbling to the surface. ‘Out of Africa.’

‘Oh, Isak Dinesen’s memoir. How do you find it?’

He would know Karen Blixen’s Danish name. Try as she might, she could never recall it.

‘I like to read about a determined woman who is doing what she loves most against all odds,’ she returned coolly.

‘Is that what you are? A determined woman?’ He raised his eyes to the ceiling, then caught her eye and smiled in a self-satisfied way. ‘Are you working at St Thomas’ against all odds?’

How dare he?

‘I don’t think there’s any comparison between a nurse in a hospital and Karen Blixen running her farm single-handedly.’ She deliberately looked down at her book again.

Why doesn’t he go away and leave me alone?

‘Impossible to concentrate, I should say, in this madhouse.’ He gazed towards the heaving tables.

The annoying thing was that this time he was right. She snapped her book closed.

‘By the way, I’m Edwin Blake.’

If he thought she was going to curl up in deference to his godly presence, he was wrong. She hid a smile. She’d have a little game with him.

‘How do you do, Dr Blake.’

Quick as a flash he answered, ‘It’s Mr Blake, actually.’

Maxine’s hand flew to her mouth in mock dismay. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

If Anna had been with her at that moment and caught her eye they would not have dared look at each other for fear of breaking into giggles for pulling the great man down a few pegs. She looked innocently at him.

There was a moment’s pause. Her heart beat a little too rapidly. Have I gone too far?

‘I suppose I deserved that.’ A smile hovered, softening the hard line of his lips.

She picked up her knife and fork again and made a pretence of finishing her meal, but each swallow stuck in her throat. This was awful. She wasn’t enjoying the stew at all with him staring at her, while he hadn’t even touched his food.

‘You may begin, Mr Blake,’ she emphasised, tackling a piece of brownish potato. She looked up and smiled. ‘Sorry, but you were staring.’

Her remark seemed to draw him back an inch or two. Then what looked like a flicker of respect passed across his face. ‘Was I really? I didn’t mean to.’

He began to eat, grimacing every so often and inspecting the contents of his fork before continuing. He broke the awkward silence.

‘How long have you been at St Thomas’?’

Oh, no. He wanted to keep up a conversation. Surely her message was clear that she wasn’t at all interested. He was just doing it to annoy her.

‘A year. When it was a whole building.’ She placed her knife and fork neatly together and made a great play of looking at her watch, ‘Oh, it’s later than I thought.’ She jumped to her feet and tucked her book under her arm.

He immediately sprang up. ‘But you haven’t finished your—’

‘I wouldn’t want to be accused of wasting time again.’ She threw him a cold glance. ‘Good day, Mr Blake.’ With that she turned and made her way through the narrow spaces between the other tables, inwardly seething.

Pompous prig. She thought of more words for Mr Edwin Blake as she tidied her hair in the small mottled mirror over the washbasin in the cloakroom before she felt ready to face her patients again.

‘A word with you, please, Nurse Taylor.’

Sister Crook put her head round the tiny kitchen as Maxine was preparing the drinks on her ward. She immediately put down the cloth and followed Sister into her room.

‘Sit down, please.’ Sister Crook took her place on the opposite side of the desk. ‘I’m most surprised,’ the older woman began, ‘to find that although you have not actually been rude to one of your superiors, you have nevertheless not acted in the required deferential manner to an eminent surgeon. So what do you have to say for yourself?’

A flush of anger rushed to Maxine’s cheeks. ‘I imagine you’re referring to Mr Blake,’ she said, barely trusting herself to speak.

Sister nodded.

By sheer willpower, Maxine stopped herself from saying anything that would get her into more trouble.

‘What I’m saying, Nurse, is that you need to mind your P’s and Q’s when he’s around. Mr Blake is an important man and we’re grateful to have him here. And you don’t want him putting any black marks against your Nightingale Badge, do you?’

‘No, of course not.’ Oh, how she detested such arrogance. Someone who put himself so far above the minions, he thought nothing of having the power to ruin her career if he so wished. Her hands clenched into fists.

‘So will you in future give him the respect he deserves?’

Maxine only paused for a second. Sister’s eyes were unusually stern. ‘Yes, Sister, I’ll do my best.’

‘That will be all.’ She let her gaze rest on Maxine a few moments more. ‘You’re an excellent worker, Nurse Taylor, but you have much to learn about men. Never forget – they can make us or break us.’

Chapter Eight

Maxine did her best to avoid Mr Blake whenever she could. Even glimpsing him in the distance along one of the corridors made her seethe that he’d reported her, but he seemed bent on seeking her out.

‘Nurse Taylor, would you come over here and show the juniors the correct way to take a patient’s temperature,’ and ‘Nurse Taylor, please show Nurse Johnson how to give a proper bed bath,’ and ‘Nurse Taylor, would you demonstrate hospital corners on this bed.’

Maxine would grit her teeth and carry out his instructions, which normally would have come from Sister, until it became obvious to her – and probably most of the staff, she wouldn’t be surprised – that he was doing this on purpose, causing her a good deal of embarrassment. She knew she would have to speak to him about it.

Bennett had only said that morning, after Maxine had made an irritable comment about him, ‘Taylor, you realise our dear Mr Blake fancies you.’

In spite of Maxine’s denial, she couldn’t help the warmth that seeped under her collar.

‘Whatever nonsense are you talking about?’ she demanded.

‘He singles you out – nearly all the time. It’s clear as daylight to the rest of us.’

‘But I’ve done nothing to encourage him to single me out. I don’t even like the man. I do respect him, having seen the results of his operations, but that’s all.’

‘Careful,’ Bennett hissed. ‘He’s coming in and making a beeline for you.’ She winked. ‘I’m off.’

‘Ah, Nurse Taylor.’ Edwin Blake strode up to her. ‘I’d like you to help me with old Mr Hodgkins in the far bed – if it’s not too much trouble.’

‘No trouble at all, Sir.’

She’d tackle Mr Blake later – when she’d got some food inside her.

Maxine drew in a deep breath before she raised her hand to knock on the door of Mr Blake’s private office.

‘Come in.’ Edwin Blake looked up from his paperwork, an expression of surprise flitting across his face.

‘Mr Blake, may I have a private word with you?’

‘Of course. Please be seated.’ He got up and walked to the door, clicking it shut.

‘May I be frank?’

‘By all means.’ He leaned forward, steepling his hands. ‘You sound as though you have something troubling you.’

‘I do.’ She kept her gaze steadily upon him. ‘It’s been remarked upon more than once that you are deliberately singling me out, and some of the staff, and even the patients, are beginning to gossip.’

‘Really?’ A dark auburn eyebrow shot up. ‘What about?’

‘That you’re seeking me out … drawing attention to me in front of the others.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘If I’m honest, I’ve noticed you doing it myself, but I put it down to the fact that we got off to a bad start and you’re asserting your authority … reminding me of my place.’

He caught her gaze and held it. Then he put his head back and roared with laughter. ‘You’re even more innocent than I thought.’

He came round to her side of the desk and sat on the edge of it so he was facing her. He caught one of her hands, which she immediately snatched away.

‘Can’t you see? It’s because I like you. I’d like to see more of you, and not just here in the hospital. I’d like to get to know you better.’ He took her hand again and in her confusion she didn’t pull away. ‘You’re lovely, Nurse Taylor – Maxine. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

She gave a start of surprise. She really hadn’t been prepared for this kind of admission. ‘Why are you interested in me?’ She tapped the top of her apron with her fingertips. ‘I haven’t even got my full qualifications yet. I’m nowhere near your level and never will be. I don’t understand.’

‘I don’t want anyone “near my level”, as you so quaintly put it,’ he said, smiling. ‘I don’t want you to alter at all. Why don’t you give me a chance? Let me prove that I’m not the ogre you first thought I was.’

‘What if I find my first thought was right all along?’ She removed her hand and looked him directly in the eye. ‘For instance, why did you find the need to report me? I thought that was totally unfounded.’

He frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You spoke to Sister Crook about me. That I’d been disrespectful to you. I suppose I have to be grateful you didn’t go straight to Matron.’

‘I haven’t spoken to anyone about you. Why should I?’

‘But Sister called me into her office and warned me that you’d—’ She broke off. Sister hadn’t actually said it was Mr Blake who’d reported her. It could have been anyone who’d overheard her. One of those nurses in the canteen, maybe. Heat flew to her cheeks. How stupid she’d been to assume …

‘You’re blushing, Nurse,’ Edwin Blake said, laughing. ‘I believe you’ve just realised I’m not quite so bad as you’d thought. But if you’re still in two minds, I’ll have to prove I’m not an ogre, won’t I?’ He looked at her. ‘So, Maxine Taylor, would you consider having dinner with me?’

She’d jumped to conclusions. It hadn’t been him who’d reported her. He gazed steadily at her, waiting for her answer.

Suddenly she wanted to go out somewhere nice. Eat a plate of delicious food, if that was possible these days. Forget about blood and vomit, groans and tears … just for a few hours. Forget this horrible war that had taken Johnny and Anna from her. For one glorious evening.

She permitted herself a half-smile. ‘Thank you – I’d like that.’

He smiled. ‘What about tomorrow evening? Can you get away?’

‘Yes. I’m off duty at six o’clock.’

‘We’ll go out to eat then.’ He wrinkled his brow. ‘Where would you like to go?’

She’d never been given a choice. Johnny had always decided for her.

‘I’d prefer you to choose,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you know London better than me.’

‘Then I’ll surprise you. But dress up.’ He paused. ‘I’ll meet you by the South Bank lion at the foot of Westminster Bridge at six forty-five. That give you enough time?’

She nodded.

‘By the way, don’t mention this to anyone at the hospital. They frown on any kind of friendship between the doctors and nurses.’

‘Does that go for surgeons too?’ Maxine kept her face straight.

He smiled. ‘Touché.’ He looked at her with something like a spark of admiration. ‘However, no one’s exempt.’

It was nearly half past six by the time she’d shed her uniform. Her temple had begun to throb, gently at first, and then more insistently when she started to panic. She didn’t have the right clothes. She shouldn’t be going out with him in the first place. But it couldn’t stop the frisson of anticipation that she was going on a date with a man of the most impressive reputation. And looks. She grinned to herself as she removed a black straight skirt from its hanger.

Her Liberty-print blouse she’d made two years ago would have to do. It had a pretty bow at the neck and the small coloured flowers of pinks and reds and greens flattered her fair complexion and naturally gold-streaked hair. She added her pearl earrings and necklace, and slipped into her only decent pair of shoes, a pair of black patent courts she’d bought in Liverpool when she’d first got married. Immediately her thoughts flew to Johnny. By going out to dinner with Edwin, was she being unfaithful to his memory? Unconsciously, she twisted her wedding ring. It was only dinner.

She glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes to seven. She’d have to hurry. She threw on her only jacket, hoping it wouldn’t rain, adjusted her neat felt hat and grabbed her bag and gloves.

He was waiting for her. She’d never seen him outside the hospital before. He wore a light grey pinstriped suit and bowler hat, with black polished shoes, and swung an umbrella from his arm, oozing self-confidence. She was sure he knew he looked good.

As soon as he saw her he said, ‘Ah, there you are,’ and held out his arm for her to take. Awkwardly, she put her hand though the crook of his elbow, feeling strange. It didn’t belong there. But not entirely comfortable in her high heels, she was grateful for his support.

‘How was your day?’ he said, glancing down at her, as they quickened their step over Westminster Bridge.

‘Not very nice,’ she admitted. ‘Mr Kingston died.’

‘Ah, yes, Michael Kingston.’ Edwin Blake nodded. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t hold out much hope for him.’

‘It was a shock for us,’ she said. ‘He seemed to be doing so well.’

‘He hadn’t heard from his wife for some time,’ Edwin Blake remarked. ‘I think he felt depressed about it, wondering what she was up to.’

‘Poor man.’ Maxine felt the all too familiar stinging behind her eyes.

She glanced up at the man striding alongside. He didn’t usually make any personal comments about the patients, but obviously took it all in. He’d remembered Mr Kingston was a Michael, for a start. Maybe he was human after all. Maybe there was a beating heart underneath his strict exterior.

‘Taxi!’ He suddenly stepped into the road and held up his umbrella. A black cab pulled up and he opened the door for her. ‘It’s a pleasant walk on a summer’s eve,’ he said, settling down beside her in the soft leather seat. ‘But not this evening.’ He raised his eyes skywards. ‘Looks like it could rain. Besides,’ he smiled down at her, ‘I want to pamper you.’

Inside the taxi, his fingers closed over hers. She didn’t want this. It was too soon. But she didn’t want to hurt him by snatching her hand away for the second time. After a few moments she gently extracted it as an excuse to look in her handbag for a handkerchief, and dabbed her nose.

‘You haven’t got a cold coming, have you?’ He sounded concerned.

‘No, no. Probably the dust in the basement.’

‘Because I can’t afford to catch one,’ he said surprisingly. ‘Too many patients relying on me.’

Was he just a little too full of his own importance? She quickly brushed the thought away. He was being sensible, that was all.

They chatted amiably enough until the taxi stopped outside the Ritz. Maxine gasped and Edwin Blake gave her an amused smile.

‘Will it be to your liking, Miss Taylor?’

‘I’m not dressed for anything so grand.’

‘You look perfect.’

A man dressed in a bright red uniform stepped briskly forward and bent to open the car door. ‘Madam,’ he said, holding out his hand to help her out, ‘welcome to the Ritz.’

She gave the man an uncertain smile, lost for words. But it didn’t stop the tingle of excitement she felt as Edwin Blake took her arm and guided her through the door of what many people regarded as the best hotel in London.

Maxine gasped as she stepped into the enormous dining room. It was buzzing with people’s chatter and laughter, but nothing could detract from the surroundings. Her astonished gaze soared upwards to the ethereal painted ceiling, the tall windows richly draped in shining gold-patterned fabric, the bronze chandeliers …

‘Your table, Sir.’ The waiter pulled out an upholstered chair from the table covered in a crisp white cloth and set with gleaming silver cutlery and crystal glasses. ‘Madam.’

As soon as Maxine glanced at the menu, the heat rushed to her cheeks. There were dishes she’d never heard of, let alone could pronounce. Edwin Blake was going to think her such a fool.

As though he felt her confusion, he said, ‘Will you allow me to order for you, Maxine?’

‘I’d be grateful. They look like very fancy dishes with their foreign names.’

He chuckled. ‘They have to keep up the pretence that they’re still serving the finest food even though there’s a war on and rationing. Mind you, they do manage to get good supplies most of the time.’ He bent his head to scan the menu. ‘I recommend the duck à l’orange.’

‘It sounds wonderful,’ Maxine said, not having a clue. She’d never eaten duck before … and with orange … it didn’t sound that appetising. But she was thankful the problem had been taken out of her hands.

‘So now you can relax.’ Edwin Blake smiled at her. ‘The Ritz will do all the work. All you have to do is sit there and look beautiful.’

It was meant to be a compliment, she was sure, but her skin prickled. She wasn’t some empty-headed young girl, even though she’d pointed out she wasn’t on his level. She’d meant he held a high position in the hospital, not that he was her superior in every shape and form. Whatever had made her make such a comment?

‘Here’s to a normal civilised evening in the madness of this bloody war,’ Edwin said, raising his glass. ‘And I say “bloody” as that’s exactly what it is – in more ways than one.’

She raised her glass towards his and smiled. ‘I second that.’

The wine tasted good even though she wasn’t very used to it. She allowed the liquid to roll over her tongue, relishing such a delightful flavour of peach, as it slid luxuriously down her throat.

‘Do you read poetry?’

His sudden question made her start. ‘I did … at school.’

‘It’s good for the soul.’ Edwin’s eyes met hers. ‘Have you a favourite poet?’

‘N-no.’ Desperately she searched her mind for a familiar name. ‘Well, I did like Byron.’

‘Ah, Lord Byron.’ He kept his gaze on her. ‘He was a rum cove. I’m surprised he’s your favourite. Goes a bit close to the mark sometimes, in my opinion.’

‘I’m not sure what you mean?’ Oh, God, what had she started?

‘Very risqué. Not sure young ladies should be reading such stuff.’

‘I was far away from being a “young lady” at fifteen when I first read Byron,’ she said, her tone a little more clipped than she meant. ‘I don’t suppose I understood half of it, but I remember we used to giggle over some of the passages.’

He raised an eyebrow and she was thankful when the waiter brought their soup. It was time for her to change the subject, even if only to comment on the food.

‘It’s delicious,’ she said truthfully.

‘One wouldn’t expect it to be any different at the Ritz.’ He smiled, dipping his spoon in.

‘What made you come to St Thomas’?’ she asked him, feeling on more familiar ground.

‘It’s a good teaching hospital – or was, what’s left of it. That’s really my forte – teaching. But they’re talking of opening a place in Guildford – a medical school – so I’ll likely be transferred.’

She felt a tiny quiver of disappointment. ‘I imagine all the hospitals are finding it difficult. There’s—’

‘Let’s not talk about work,’ he cut in. ‘I want to get to know you, Maxine. And for heaven’s sake call me Edwin – when we’re off duty, of course.’

So he’s expecting to see me again.

‘Is there a young man in tow?’ Edwin broke into her thoughts.

‘I haven’t a boyfriend, if that’s what you mean,’ Maxine answered quickly, her face feeling warm all of a sudden.’

‘A pretty girl like you without a boyfriend?’

‘Not exactly. I was married.’

‘Was?’ His eyes widened.

‘He died,’ Maxine said quietly, putting down her soup spoon.

‘Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.’ Edwin seized her left hand before she could retrieve it. ‘I didn’t notice your wedding ring. Clumsy of me. How did it happen?’

‘He was one of the ones who had to stay behind at Dunkirk. A medic. They needed them to go off with those rescued, but they also needed medics to stay behind and look after the wounded. I understand he volunteered.’ She wasn’t prepared to go into any further details.

‘How old are you, Maxine?’

‘Twenty-one.’

‘Too young to be a widow.’ He gently squeezed her hand. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he repeated.

‘He wasn’t only my husband for a very short time but he was my best friend … from childhood. That’s what is so painful. I’ve lost my best friend.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

‘Then let me try to make it up to you,’ Edwin said.

‘No one can make up for anything like that,’ she said briskly, to hide the familiar ache in her heart.

‘I’ll damned well give it a good try.’

Maxine was keen to get off the subject and was grateful when the main course arrived. To her surprise she found the duck delicious. She also found she was beginning to enjoy Edwin’s conversation about the places he’d travelled to before the war, though she couldn’t add anything much except to nod and smile.

‘What other books have you read besides Out of Africa?’ he asked.

‘Rebecca.’ She thought a moment. ‘I like Agatha Christie.’ Her mind went blank and quickly she said, ‘What about you?’

‘Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, Evelyn Waugh – I’ve just finished A Handful of Dust – anything by Jean-Paul Sartre …’

He mentioned two or three more names but she’d never heard of any of them. She sipped her wine, hoping she looked interested, not knowing if she’d like the plays he now mentioned because she’d only heard of Noel Coward’s Private Lives. But Edwin was nice. Attentive. Polite. Absolutely charming. Altogether different from when she’d first come across him in the ward.

‘We must do this again … soon,’ he said as he helped her on with her jacket an hour and a half later. ‘I’m not going to keep you out late. None of us are getting a lot of sleep lately, and I need steady hands when I hold the knife.’ He grinned at her.

‘Put like that, I think you’re very wise.’ Maxine smiled back.

The taxi pulled up, as Edwin directed, in Royal Street, close to the hospital building. Edwin paid the fare and the cab disappeared into the dusk. He looked down at Maxine, a strange expression she couldn’t fathom on his face.

‘You’re very lovely,’ he said. ‘Would you allow me to kiss you?’

She didn’t know if she wanted him to or not. Before she could answer, he drew her into his arms and she felt his lips on hers. It buzzed through her mind how different he felt from Johnny, whose kisses were cheerful … friendly … Edwin’s was more like a lover’s kiss. For a few seconds she tried to wriggle free. It was too smothering. But then, against her will, she felt herself responding, felt her own lips start to kiss him back. How she’d missed this. But it was too dangerous. She didn’t want to like him in that way. Dazed, she pulled away.

‘I’ve had one of the best evenings in a long time,’ Edwin said.

‘Me, too,’ she whispered.

‘Then go, before you turn into a pumpkin.’

‘Isn’t that what the carriage is supposed to do?’

His teeth gleamed in the fading light. ‘Yes, something like that.’ He gave her a swift kiss on her lips. ‘You’d better go in, Cinders. It’s going to bucket down.’

Reluctantly she turned away, aware that he was watching her. Inside the hospital she removed her high heels, not wanting to wake anyone as she crept down the steps. It was only when she was safely in the bedroom, hearing Gillian’s gentle snores from the other bed, that she realised she wasn’t sure if she felt relief or disappointment at the sudden end to the evening.

Chapter Nine

‘Come on, lazybones, wake up.’ It was Walker, one of the three other nurses Maxine shared the room with, shaking her shoulders gently. She’d been dreaming about Edwin.

Her eyes opened wide as she jerked up.

‘You were sleeping the sleep of an angel – even on your bed of straw,’ Walker chuckled. ‘He must be gorgeous.’

To her annoyance, Maxine felt her face redden.

‘Oooh, look who’s blushing. I’m pretty close to the nail, aren’t I?’

‘I’m not answering.’ Maxine swung her long, slender legs off the mattress, laughing and shooing Walker away.

Somehow it seemed a little dull that morning without Edwin coming in and out of Men’s Surgical. She rather missed him. This was ridiculous, to feel like this after one date, and probably the only date he would ever ask her on. She’d convinced herself that it was just an impulsive gesture on his part and he wouldn’t be repeating it, when Bennett came to find her as she was washing a few cups whilst waiting for the kettle to boil on the Primus stove for their afternoon tea. The patients had had theirs and Maxine was looking forward to snatching five minutes with her feet up and a couple of Digestive biscuits.

‘For you.’ Bennett handed her an envelope.

‘Me?’ Maxine pointed to herself.

‘Yes, love. It’s got your name on, if I’m not mistaken – Nurse Taylor. Private and Confidential, so it says.’

Maxine took the envelope and shoved it in her apron pocket, ignoring the curiosity on Bennett’s face.

‘I’ll read it later – in private, as it states,’ she said with a grin.

‘Fair enough, but you have to share it with us if it’s something exciting.’ She gave Maxine a sly look from under her lashes. ‘I have a feeling I know who it’s from anyway.’ She winked and scurried out of the kitchen door, pulling it behind her.

There was no possibility of reading the letter now. She’d be in trouble if she didn’t get back on the ward right away.

Immediately she forgot about Edwin as George Morton grabbed her attention. During the blackout he’d been knocked off his bicycle by a motorist and suffered internal injuries and a broken arm. Waving his good arm in fury, he cursed Hitler for causing the accident, which, Maxine supposed, indirectly Mr Hitler had.

The only bright spot was that today was payday. She joined the queue outside Matron’s office to collect her wages – ten shillings more than she’d received at the Infirmary. ‘London rating,’ Anna had explained, her nose wrinkling that it wasn’t nearly enough compensation. She could see her friend’s expression now. How she missed her.

‘I didn’t break the bleedin’ thermometer,’ a young girl’s voice came from behind her in the queue. ‘Mr Gibson is a bit funny in the head, I reckon, and he snatched it from me before I could even see his temperature. And to cap it all, Sister said she’d deduct it from my measly four pounds.’

‘Did you tell her what happened?’ another girl asked.

‘No point.’

Maxine wished she could block out their conversation and just collect her envelope and go. She was longing to read her letter, which was beginning to burn a hole in her pocket.

It was several hours later before Maxine fell onto her bed, exhausted. She took the envelope out of her pocket and tore it open. There was a single sheet of paper inside and when she unfolded it, there was his writing – not the usual scrawl of a doctor or surgeon, but beautiful italic writing that looked as if it had popped out of one of the history books.

Dear Girl,

I hope the wine didn’t have any ill effects on you last night and that you had a decent sleep. I didn’t. And it wasn’t just the bombs keeping me awake. I kept thinking of your lovely face and how I couldn’t wait to see it again, but it’s my day off today and I have some errands to do.

When do you have some time off in the day? It would be nice to walk in the park, and maybe go to a matinée or something. I’ll be back on the wards tomorrow so you can tell me then – discreetly, of course, but I know you always will be.

Until tomorrow, then.

Yours,

E

Maxine frowned and read it through a second time. What did he mean by calling her ‘Girl’, and signing off ‘E’? Was that his way of being discreet? It sounded so impersonal. And yet the sentiment was there, staring her in the face. He wanted to see her again. He thought she was lovely. He was just very different from Johnny – that was all.

With a flutter of anticipation, she folded the letter and slipped it into its envelope and back into her pocket.

Edwin arrived on her ward the next morning and didn’t show by even a flicker of an eyelash that he had a personal interest in her. She played along with it to perfection. But when they had less than a minute alone as he was frowning at one of the patient’s medical sheets, and the two other nurses and Sister were at the other end of the ward, Edwin muttered, ‘So when are you free, Nurse?’

‘The day after tomorrow,’ she answered, pretending to tuck in a corner of Sidney Johnson’s bed. ‘I’m off in the afternoon. From two o’clock.’

‘Good. That will be all, Nurse.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Meet you at the same place at half-past two. Be prepared for anything.’

‘Thank you, Mr Blake.’ She wanted to giggle. He was such a respectable man, and there he was, making a date with her right under Sister’s nose.

They did as his note suggested and meandered through Archbishop’s Park. Even though it was right on the doorstep of St Thomas’, Maxine had had little chance to enjoy it, except for an occasional sandwich at lunchtime with Anna.

‘I wanted to take you to see a play, but I’m afraid they’ve already started. Half past two is pretty much the time for most of the matinées.’

‘It doesn’t matter at all,’ Maxine said, taking his proffered arm. ‘We’re inside a stuffy building for too many hours, so it’s wonderful to be out in the air. Most of the flowers are coming to the end, but I can still smell the last of the roses.’ She breathed in deeply. ‘Mmm … lovely. And just walking amongst the trees. We’re so lucky in London to have so many parks.’ She glanced up at the sky. ‘Only the barrage balloons remind us there’s a war on.’

He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. ‘If there wasn’t any war, would you be happy right this minute?’

‘I’m enjoying this,’ she said, seriously. ‘But I’m not sure what being happy feels like anymore.’

He tucked her arm in his a little tighter. ‘You’re not on duty this evening, are you?’

‘No. No, I’m not.’ Why did she feel uncomfortable all of a sudden? Was it that he seemed to know her schedule despite her only finding out about the alteration herself that morning?

‘Because we can go and see a film if you like. Or a play. I haven’t booked anything because I wasn’t sure. We could get a bite to eat first, or afterwards – whichever you prefer. What would you really like to do?’

‘I’d love to see The Dancing Years,’ Maxine said tentatively.

‘That’s Ivor Novello.’

‘Yes. I heard a programme about it on the wireless and made a note of it. It’s on at the Windmill Theatre.’

‘You can’t go wrong with Novello.’ He patted her arm. ‘Look, why don’t we have some refreshment and then see if we can book tickets.’

‘Weren’t we lucky to get such good seats?’ Maxine said as they found their row just as the orchestra started up.

Edwin smiled and took her hand. She was conscious of his warm fingers linking with hers, stopping her from completely losing herself in the romance of the musical. She tried. How she tried to concentrate, but it was impossible. She wanted him to kiss her again. Hold her. She didn’t dare look at him in case he guessed her thoughts. Think her fast. She stared ahead, hardly blinking, hoping he wasn’t aware of her turmoil.

He began to caress her fingers, one by one. A shiver ran through her body. She tried to think of Johnny. Keep loyal to him. But his face faded in and out of her vision and it couldn’t take the place of this living, breathing man next to her, so close their shoulders were touching.

Her breathing became rapid and she forced herself to draw in a long, deep breath through her nose to steady her pulse. He must have heard the intake as he shot her a look as though to ask her a question.

The music came to a close. To her relief, the curtain fell down.

‘Thank goodness it’s the interval,’ Edwin said. ‘The space doesn’t accommodate my legs at all. I’ve got cramp in one of them.’ He rubbed his calf, then got up. ‘We’ll go and get a drink. Stretch our legs.’

She was thankful. The physical closeness of him was too dangerous. She needed to distance herself. She followed him out of the auditorium and into the bar downstairs.

The bar was jammed from end to end, but Edwin was half a head taller than most other men and Maxine noticed the blonde behind the bar served him sooner than she should.

‘There wasn’t any chance to ask you what you would like to drink,’ he said, carrying two glasses of wine and pushing his way through to where the crowd had thinned, ‘so I hope this is acceptable. Don’t suppose you’ve seen a table?’

‘No. I don’t know how everyone got here so quickly,’ Maxine said, looking round. People were lighting up cigarettes, and passing chocolates, pouring champagne and laughing at something that had been said. They all seemed to belong. Maxine looked away abruptly.

‘We’ll lean against the windowsill, if you can manage.’ Edwin placed the glasses on the sill and glanced at her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Maxine? You look a little flushed.’

‘I’m fine.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘Isn’t the show wonderful? Such lovely music. Almost makes me want to dance.’

Why, oh why had she said that? As though she was trying to hint where she’d like to go on their next date. Well, there wasn’t going to be another date. She was acting like a star-struck girl and she didn’t like herself one bit. But she’d made a decision. She wasn’t going to put herself through all that emotion she’d felt sitting there beside him in the theatre. He’d laugh his head off if he had an inkling of her muddled mind. She’d feign a headache or something. Ask him to take her back to the hospital. But it was too late. The bell rang for everyone to finish their drinks and take their seats in the auditorium again.

‘Drink up, sweetheart. We don’t want to disturb everyone by being late.’

There was half a glass of wine left. She tipped it back and swallowed it without stopping.

‘Don’t want to waste it,’ she told him, a little shame-faced. She clutched on to his arm and he laughed as she lost her balance. He put an arm firmly around her waist and led her back to their waiting seats.

She didn’t remember one thing of the second half of The Dancing Years.

The rest of the evening seemed to melt away and they were on their way back to the hospital. Edwin was unusually quiet in the taxi, just holding her hand tightly as though he never wanted to release it.

Maxine’s mind was in tumult. She hadn’t even liked the man when she’d first met him; now she couldn’t stop the rush of feeling every time she looked at him. She mustn’t let him know. He would think her a foolish little girl. After all, that’s what he had called her – Girl. But she wasn’t a girl. She’d been married to her dearest friend. She knew how it felt to be married. The intimacy. And she’d missed it more than she’d realised.

Once or twice she caught Edwin glancing at her in the taxi but she forced herself not to turn her head. He instructed the driver to drop them off in the same street as last time. He was protecting her reputation as much as his own – but she hated the subterfuge. It spoilt the ending to what she could only describe as a romantic day fuelled by her longing. But now she would go down to the basement and he would go to his quarters, wherever they were.

As soon as the taxi had moved off, Edwin reached to take her in his arms and laid his cheek against hers. Then his lips sent kisses down her neck, thrilling her. His fingers undid the buttons of her jacket. His hand cupped her breast over her blouse. Then his fingers found bare skin. He began to stroke her and she moaned.

‘Maxine. Oh, Maxine, you dear girl. I want you so much. Do you want me too?’

She couldn’t fathom the expression in his eyes.

‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’ His voice was husky.

‘It’s too soon,’ she whispered.

‘Not for me, it isn’t. I think I fell in love with you when you put me in my place that first day.’

She caught a flash of his gleaming white teeth as he smiled.

‘I don’t want you to leave just yet. What say we have a nightcap in my room?’

She had no idea what a nightcap was but imagined it was a drink of some kind.

‘A cup of cocoa would be nice.’

He threw his head back with a roar of laughter. ‘Then it’s cocoa you shall have. But we must go separately. I’m in that far wing … the one still standing,’ he added with a grimace as he pointed. ‘I’ll leave the door open for you. Then go up the stairs and mine is the second door on the left. Follow me after two minutes.’

She felt awkward as soon as she glimpsed the double bed through the open door from a small sitting room. Trying not to be caught staring, she looked around. It was as neat and spotless as Edwin himself.

‘Take your jacket off,’ he said, slipping off his own and draping it over the back of one of the chairs.

‘Edwin, I—’

But she was already in his arms. His lips were on hers.

Then without speaking, and before she could protest, he picked her up as though she were as light as a ballet dancer and carried her into the bedroom.

‘Get under the sheets,’ he murmured.

She obeyed.

It hurt. She was so tense it hurt terribly. She called out for him to stop, but he didn’t seem to hear. Tears poured down her cheeks. This wasn’t how it was meant to be.

He finished and fell onto his side, smiling at her. Then his smile faded.

‘What’s the matter, darling girl? Did I hurt you?’

She nodded, desperately embarrassed.

‘I’m so sorry. Forgot to warn you I’m a big bloke. It won’t be so painful next time, I promise. In the end you’ll accommodate it more easily … speaking as your surgeon.’ He grinned. ‘I want you to enjoy it as much as I did.’ He kissed her bare shoulder. ‘Did you enjoy it just a little?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, but it wasn’t really the truth.

She felt ashamed that she hadn’t been able to give more of herself, but the pain had been very real. She thought how very inexperienced she must seem to him. But she’d been married, for goodness’ sake. She ought to know what to expect. Then, without warning, she heard Johnny’s voice in her head after she’d accepted his proposal.

‘Even though there’s no doubt we’ll soon be at war with Germany, we’ll save ourselves until we’re married. I respect you too much to make love to you before the wedding, Max, darling.’

But Edwin hadn’t waited. And she hadn’t stopped him. She wasn’t certain the feelings she had for him were love – not yet anyway. And Edwin? Was he genuine? Or was she just a war-time diversion? She cringed at the thought, and as though Edwin had read her mind, he held her close, whispering how much he adored her. She breathed out a happy sigh. He did care for her after all.

Chapter Ten

A fortnight flashed by. Maxine and Edwin had managed to snatch a couple of hours together here and there, mostly for an occasional meal. She felt she was beginning to get to know him, but his next proposal took her by surprise. He insisted upon giving her some money to buy an evening dress and a pair of shoes.

‘You always look beautiful to me – you know that – but you’ll feel a million dollars in a new dress. And I have somewhere really special I want to take you.’

‘Nowhere can be more special than the Ritz.’ Maxine smiled.

‘Hmm. It’s not the only special place,’ he said, counting out some pounds from a bundle of notes. ‘Here … this should do it.’ He pushed the money into her reluctant hands. ‘Some of the stores in Oxford Street were badly damaged last year in the Blitz, but Marshall & Snelgrove escaped much of it, so I’m told.’ He closed her fingers over the notes. ‘Try them first.’

‘Are you absolutely sure?’ She looked up at him, her eyes anxious.

‘Absolutely, poppet. Go and enjoy yourself. And have lunch out. Take a girlfriend.’

But in the end she went on her own. Somehow she didn’t feel like explaining to any of the others how she had come by all this extra money. She might have told Anna, but there was no one else she would confide in. But did that mean she was doing something she wasn’t proud of? She didn’t want anyone to think she was after his money. But it might look just like that to them. Surely it was natural that Edwin wanted her to look nice. And she wanted to look nice for him. Was that so terrible?

She shrugged and tried to put the question out of her mind, but she couldn’t shake off the edge of guilt she felt that Johnny wouldn’t have approved at all.

She had to admit it was heaven to have a whole day off to herself, wandering around the shops, knowing if she saw something she liked she’d be able to buy it – within reason, of course.

She settled on a dress the colour of a shimmering turquoise sea she’d once seen in a holiday brochure. Immediately as she put it on her skin glowed, the colour of her eyes took on almost the same turquoise, and her hair glinted like gold under the lights. Although it was strapless she knew she could make it more of a versatile outfit with the little short jacket she’d made for her wedding dress. She smiled at herself in the mirror, and almost to her surprise, the attractive young woman smiled back.

She was sure Edwin would love the sea dress as much as she did.

Now to the shoe department. She was alarmed to see that many of them cost as much as her dress. Her eyes fell on a pair of dark green suede shoes with a bow on the front and a black patent heel. She turned the shoe over. Three pounds nineteen and eleven. Nearly four pounds. That would make it twelve pounds eight shillings out of the fifteen pounds he’d given her. She tried them on.

‘They fit you like a glove, don’t they, Madam?’

‘I can’t feel them at all.’ Maxine smiled up at the young girl.

‘This make is very high quality,’ the girl said. ‘I think you’ll enjoy wearing them and I’m sure you’ll have a lot of compliments. They’re very special.’

Maxine couldn’t refuse.

The girl put them in a shoebox lined with tissue paper and tucked it into Maxine’s carrier bag.

There was enough money over to buy a pair of cami-knickers and a pretty brassière. It was no good wearing a beautiful dress if she only had tired undergarments beneath. She couldn’t wait to show Edwin her purchases.

She was too excited to sit for a proper lunch, as he had suggested, but she had a cup of tea and a fruit scone in the store’s café, all the while thinking of him. Why had he singled her out? An eminent surgeon, he could have anyone he wanted. What was it about her that he liked so much? He was a bit serious compared with Johnny (though she knew she mustn’t compare the two men), but she supposed he’d have to be with his kind of responsibility. He must feel so satisfied at the end of each day saving lives. She wished she could do more herself.

Was she falling in love with him? She couldn’t help a wry smile. She was running ahead. It was far too soon to be posing such a question.

Yesterday’s treat on her shopping day seemed an age ago when Maxine was plunged into a nightmare at the hospital. Eleven people, four from the same family, had been brought in during the night, wounded from a bomb which had exploded in one of the streets uncomfortably close to St Thomas’.

‘Did anyone die?’ she asked Staff Nurse, dreading the answer.

‘Three.’ Staff Nurse Williams’ tone was abrupt as she glanced towards the door. One of the orderlies was pushing a man in a wheelchair. The patient’s hair and face was thickly coated with dust, and he was muttering obscenities under his breath.

‘Calm down, Sir,’ the orderly said, not unkindly. ‘You’re safe now. We’ll soon get you put right.’ He helped him out of the chair and managed to get him into bed, with more curses emanating from the patient’s mouth.

Maxine’s heart went out to the poor man.

‘I’d like you to give him some special attention while you’re on duty,’ Staff Nurse Williams said. ‘You’ll be able to keep a strict eye on his daily improvement … or not.’ She left her to it.

Maxine helped one of the nurses to get him undressed and into the bed. The man groaned as the nurse knocked his leg by mistake.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr—’

He looked up, a faint expression of surprise on his face. ‘Bill … Bill … oh, God, I can’t remember my name.’ He tapped the side of his head.

‘Mr Chorley?’ Maxine broke in, reading from his notes.

‘Yes, yes, that’s it … Chorley.’

He looked relieved that he had a full name, but Maxine wasn’t convinced. She was sure he’d clung onto ‘Chorley’ without any real conviction. It looked like she had plenty of work to do with Bill Chorley, but she was glad. She needed to keep busy. Keep her mind off Edwin. And their next time together. She hugged herself at the thought that there would definitely be a next time.

Bill Chorley was a difficult patient, right from the start. But it didn’t bother Maxine one bit. She took him his noon meal on his second day.

‘What’s this muck?’ He looked up at her as she placed the tray on his bedside table and helped him into a seating position. When she didn’t respond, he banged his spoon down on the plate like a toddler having a temper tantrum.

She refused to rise to his bait.

‘You seem very pally with our charming Mr Blake,’ he remarked.

Oh, why did she always have to blush whenever Edwin was mentioned or when he came into the ward?

‘Yes, I thought so,’ he chuckled. ‘You’ve got “guilt” written all over that pretty face of yours.’

‘You need to concentrate on getting well, Mr Chorley,’ Maxine said, frowning at him, ‘and not concerning yourself with the latest gossip.’

‘Oh, I don’t think it’s gossip,’ Chorley said annoyingly. ‘I watch things. You and Blake are having an affair – it’s bloody obvious.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Her blush deepened.

‘Then why are you turning so red?’ he asked, a grin spreading over his face. ‘And by the way, you can call me Bill. I’m not at all sure I recognise the name of Chorley anyway.’

‘When you come up with one you do recognise, then let me know,’ she quipped, trying to change the subject.

‘He’s not good enough for you,’ Bill said, out of the blue.

She gave a start. ‘I’m not prepared to discuss it.’

‘Just wanted to warn you, Nurse. I don’t trust him. His eyes are cold. They give nothing away. I’ve seen his type before.’

‘You don’t know him. I thought he was a bit abrupt when I first met him, but he mellows when he’s out of the hospital.’

‘So I’m right. You are going out with him.’ He gave a triumphant smile.

Blast. She should never have admitted to anyone, let alone a patient, that she was seeing Edwin outside the hospital.

‘Please hush, Bill,’ Maxine said, desperate to change the subject. ‘How’s your dinner?’

‘Give me a chance.’ He cut up a piece of meat and looked at it before he put the fork in his mouth. ‘Bloody hell, that’s tough.’ His jaw went up and down and side to side in such a comical fashion she couldn’t help smiling, until he spoke once more. ‘Be warned, that’s all.’

Chapter Eleven

‘We’re going to a dance,’ Edwin managed to say in an undertone to Maxine when she was in the sluice, washing the bedpans. A horrible job which brought back memories of her first year at the Infirmary, but it had to be done.

Maxine had never learned to dance properly and awkward male partners hadn’t helped, but looking at Edwin she was sure he’d be a good dancer.

‘I’ve looked up when your next day off is, and managed to change mine to coincide,’ Edwin went on. ‘We should go the evening before and then we can spend all day together the next day.’ He looked at her. ‘Would you like that?’

‘It sounds lovely, but—’

‘I’m going to book a hotel for the night so we can relax and not have all eyes on us as we do at the hospital. I don’t want to let you out of my sight for a moment, so pack a small overnight bag.’

Her heart gave a little flip. Making love that first time had been in the heat of the moment, but this time she knew it was his plan. Was she ready for such a leap?

‘And you can wear your new dress,’ he added.

‘Where are we going?’ Maxine asked as they approached Covent Garden, her hand feeling more familiar in the crook of his arm. How nice it was to have a boyfriend she could be affectionate with. Something she’d missed terribly since Johnny died. Thinking of Johnny she felt a twinge of guilt. But she couldn’t go on forever without enjoying another man’s company. Surely Johnny wouldn’t want her to. She glanced up and caught Edwin’s eye and he smiled. She smiled back.

To have an evening and a full day ahead of them was almost unheard of since the war started. Edwin had obviously organised it, but how, without raising suspicion? She was truly grateful; however, it had come about after another harrowing week. And Edwin would have had the same exhausting week given the wave of new patients who’d been admitted, nearly all requiring surgery.

This time on their own would be a good opportunity to get to know one another better. She gave his arm a daring little squeeze and he looked down at her and smiled.

‘It’s a surprise. But I’ve booked us into a hotel close to where we’re going, so we can register first and put our things in our room – have a wash and brush up, if we need.’

‘Sounds a good idea,’ she said, more for something to say. Unexpectedly, she began to feel nervous.

The hotel was small and non-descript which suited her perfectly. Inside, a grey-haired woman at the reception desk regarded them keenly through thick lenses.

‘Mr and Mrs Edward Brown,’ Edwin announced firmly.

This time she understood his discretion. Until the world knew they were courting it was best kept a secret to protect them both.

‘Sign here, please, Mr Brown.’ The receptionist slid an open book and pen towards him, at the same time glancing at Maxine’s left hand as though suspicious the third finger would be bereft of the necessary gold band. She gave a nod almost of disappointment, her bun so tight the skin tautly stretched around her face and eyes under the strain of her hairpins. Her prim expression reminded Maxine of her mother. If her mother could see her now with a man who wasn’t her husband, booked into a hotel in the same room, she’d be horrified, no matter how famous a surgeon he was.

‘No, thanks,’ Edwin was saying. ‘We’ve only got a couple of small bags with us, so I’m sure we can find our way.’

‘You’re on the second floor,’ the woman told him, ‘and I’m afraid there’s no lift.’ She seemed momentarily taken aback when Edwin treated her to one of his charming smiles. ‘But then you’re young,’ she said, ‘so I’m sure you’ll manage.’

Maxine bit back a giggle.

‘Old bat,’ Edwin said when he unlocked the door to their room. ‘Don’t suppose she’s ever known a night of passion in her life.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Maxine retorted. ‘That’s the thing with people. You never know what they’re capable of until you get to know them. Or they tell you things and it might not be the truth, so you still don’t know them.’

Edwin threw her a questioning glance. ‘You’re very deep, all of a sudden,’ he said, frowning.

‘She might have lost someone in the war and she doesn’t have much reason to be jolly,’ she told him crisply.

‘Last war, more like.’

‘Even if it was, you don’t get over that sort of thing easily or quickly … or ever.’

Damn. She hadn’t meant to say that at all. What was he going to think, her bringing up her dead husband just when he was treating her to a wonderful time? She opened her mouth to apologise, but he stopped her with his arms, holding her tight against him.

‘I’m sorry, poppet. Of course you don’t. You’re thinking of your husband, aren’t you? What an insensitive cad I can be sometimes.’

He bent his head and kissed her lightly, then again, only deeper this time.

‘I want to make love to you right now,’ he said. He was breathing fast. ‘Let’s not bother with dancing. We can go straight to bed. Then have a quick supper afterwards – if you’re hungry then, that is. If not, we’ll skip it and make love again.’

‘We’re definitely going dancing,’ Maxine said, smiling, trying to lighten the tone. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she was putting off the moment when Edwin would make love to her again. ‘You haven’t bought me a new dress for nothing.’ She ducked out of his embrace. ‘I’ll go and change. Won’t be ten minutes.’

‘You’ll be the first woman I’ve ever known to be that quick,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I’m ready, so I’ll wait for you downstairs in the bar.’

Swiftly, she removed her blouse and skirt, splashed under her arms at the washbasin, then eased the sea dress over her head and hips and slipped on the new green suede shoes. How lucky to have found the dress, what with the shortage of ready-made clothes, and material about to be rationed. Picking up the brush, she ran it through her hair and touched up her lipstick. She was ready.

‘Well done,’ Edwin said, scrutinising his watch as soon as she entered the bar. ‘Not even a minute late.’ He tipped the rest of the golden-brown liquid down his throat and smacked his lips together, then looked her up and down. ‘Is that the new dress?’

‘Yes. Do you like it?’ She gave a twirl, feeling a little self-conscious.

‘It’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.’ He glanced at his watch again. ‘Right. Are you ready?’

He took hold of her hand as they walked past the reception desk.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘The Royal Opera House,’ he said. ‘It’s not far. Covent Garden.’

‘Oh, I thought you said we were going dancing.’

‘We are. They changed it into a dance hall at the beginning of the war – more likely to raise people’s spirits than going to the opera. They hold dances every night and it’s usually packed. Amazing, considering a bomb could drop on them any time.’

He must go quite regularly, she thought. She wondered idly who he’d brought, then decided it was none of her business, and in any case it would have been before they’d started going out together. What was in the past had to remain in the past.

She’d never been inside the Royal Opera House before, though she’d always given more than a glance at the columned façade when she’d passed in front.

‘I didn’t think there’d be quite this queue when we’ve come so early,’ Edwin grumbled.

‘It shows it must be good,’ Maxine said mildly, wondering if it stretched to the other side of the building. If so, they were in for a long wait.

But fifteen minutes later they’d stepped inside. She drew in a quick breath, totally unprepared for the sight and sound that engulfed her. What had once obviously been a sumptuous interior had given over to a heaving mass of bodies. On the bandstand she was thrilled to see a group of female musicians belting out a swing number, and a glamorous woman leading on the saxophone.

‘Ivy Benson and her all-girls band,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, Edwin, I’ve always wanted to see them.’

Edwin nodded with no seemingly particular interest. ‘Keep your eyes open for a table.’

She followed him as he forced his way through the crowd.

‘Goodness, however many people have they packed in here?’ she asked as he took her jacket, somehow having managed to find a table to share with another couple. He draped her jacket on the back of one of the chairs and she removed her hat and balanced it on top.

‘They say the place holds fifteen hundred,’ Edwin said, eyeing up the floor and the people sitting high in the balconies.

He was shouting above the cacophony and she barely caught his words. It was certainly not the right place to have a conversation.

‘What would you like to drink, poppet?’

‘A glass of white wine would be lovely, thank you.’

After their drinks, he led her onto the dance floor. He was an excellent dancer, but she couldn’t relax, so terrified was she of making a wrong step.

‘Listen to the words,’ he whispered when Ivy Benson was singing ‘I’m Getting Sentimental Over You’. He gave her hand a squeeze, his breath tickling her ear.

After two or three more dances – one being the jitterbug, which was the latest craze from America that even Edwin couldn’t master – he led her back to the table, where another couple had taken their places.

‘Excuse me,’ Edwin began, pointedly looking at them, pink with annoyance.

‘Oh, was this your jacket?’ A scarlet-lipsticked woman looked up at Maxine who nodded. ‘I had to sit down, love – my feet were killing me.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Maxine smiled. ‘We’ll find somewhere else.’

‘If you’re sure …’

‘Maxine!’ Edwin’s tone was a little irritable.

‘Come on, Edwin. People are coming and going all the time. There’s bound to be something.’

But since they’d been on the dance floor, many more couples had come in and grabbed the few remaining tables.

‘Are you feeling tired?’ Edwin asked as they trailed round trying to spot a couple of spare chairs.

‘Not really.’

‘Incorrect answer,’ he said, chuckling, his happier mood seemingly returned. ‘You’re supposed to say, “Yes, darling, I’m tired out and all I want to do is go to bed – with you.”’

Now it was her turn to flush.

He pressed her hand. ‘Shall we go?’

She hadn’t known how to broach the subject of Edwin wearing something to protect her, but to her relief he brought out a small packet and swiftly covered himself. It was almost as painful the second time, mainly because Maxine was tense once more, made worse by Edwin telling her to relax and enjoy it. She tried to concentrate on him and his pleasure and was thankful the searing, throbbing pain began to subside the moment he pulled out of her.

‘You’re still as tight as a virgin,’ he said as they lay together afterwards. ‘It’s exciting for me but probably not so much for you.’ He kissed her swiftly on the lips. ‘You wouldn’t think you’d been married to your Johnny – for how long was it?’

She was glad it was dark in the room and he couldn’t see the warmth rise to her cheeks. She wished he hadn’t mentioned Johnny.

‘He was away a lot and he was killed early on.’ She really didn’t want to talk about it; it made her feel she was being disloyal to Johnny’s memory.

‘It must have been awful for you,’ he murmured, ‘but I’m here now.’

In the morning he made love to her again, and finally she told herself she was almost enjoying it.

‘It’s our secret, poppet,’ he said more than once. ‘Let’s keep it to ourselves. There’s too much gossip by far at the hospital and we both need to concentrate on our work.’

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