‘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