An Orphan’s War: One of the best historical fiction books you will read in 2018

‘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 (#ulink_0408fe65-4c39-56ce-84dd-9f13821cd421)

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.’