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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.’