The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(30)
Sarah shuddered as the siren went on and on. If she was honest, she was exhausted. She’d been on duty last night when the big ship was hit and had worked through the day, helping tend the wounds of the dock workers who’d got too close. To think that until recently she’d only learnt about treating burns from a textbook. Well, she thought grimly, she had plenty of practice now. Trying not to think about her father, who was bound to be on ARP duty, or her mother doing her fire-watching, Sarah began to roll more bandages in readiness for the casualties that were certain to come.
‘Fancy a cuppa, young Sarah?’ It was one of the more experienced nurses, Jean, who’d worked full time before she married and gave up her job to have children. Now her skills were needed once more, and the children were being cared for by their grandmothers. She’d confided to Sarah on a quieter night that she felt she should have them evacuated but couldn’t bear the thought of separation. Sarah had understood that this was the dilemma so many women faced.
She didn’t really want a cup of tea, but then again she had no way of knowing when the next one would come along, so she agreed. Meanwhile she carried on rolling the bandages, ordering them by size and shape, careful to be exact so that no time would be lost when the station got busy. She had little doubt it would. There wouldn’t be much sleep tonight. Sleep. She mustn’t even think about it. Every cell in her body longed for it but she knew she couldn’t give in to the temptation to snatch forty winks. The tea would revive her.
The drone of overhead aircraft filled her with dread.
‘Oh boy, now we’re for it,’ said Jean, looking upwards. ‘Sounds like they mean business tonight.’
‘Could mean anything,’ said Sarah, refusing to think the worst before it actually happened.
‘No, I feel it in my waters,’ Jean insisted. ‘You see if I’m right. They’ll be doing their damnedest to destroy Liverpool tonight.’
Sarah wanted to block out her colleague’s gloomy prediction – it did no good to assume disaster. ‘We might be lucky. You never know.’
‘Well, I’m just going to stick my head outside to see if there are many people heading our way,’ Jean said.
‘Wait, your tea will go cold,’ said Sarah, alarmed now. ‘Don’t go outside if the planes are so close. The wounded will find us soon enough.’
‘I’d rather know what we’re in for.’ There was no stopping Jean now. She put down her chipped old mug, drew her nurse’s cloak around her and hurried out of the door, leaving it ajar and letting the cold night air through.
Sarah turned to go to shut it, but she never got there. Suddenly an explosion far, far louder than anything she’d ever heard before in her life sounded from what felt like directly outside. The shock waves crashed into her and she fell, momentarily disorientated. Her ears rang and she couldn’t tell up from down, she was so dizzy. She held on to what some faint internal voice told her must be the leg of the table on which she’d been sorting her bandages and somehow she rolled underneath it. She could hear crashes but couldn’t tell if they came from inside the nurses’ station or not. There were screams, high and piercing, but she couldn’t do anything about them; she couldn’t stand, couldn’t think straight. The noise and confusion seemed to go on for ever. There was dust in the air and the horrible smell of burning – scorched wood, and something else more earthy.
She had no idea for how long she lay under the table, but gradually the confusion lessened and the air began to clear. The dim light bulb hadn’t gone out – she had thought everything had gone dark but maybe she’d hit her head and it had just seemed like that. Now she could make out that the explosion had dislodged items from the shelves around the walls, but the small station was still basically intact. Jean’s chipped mug had fallen nearby and smashed to pieces. Distractedly, Sarah pushed the shards out of the way; they were sharp and shouldn’t be stood on, but they could be cleared away properly later. Groaning, she rolled over on to her hands and knees and crawled from under the table. She slowly got to her feet, almost laughing to see her neat rows of bandages still in place. How could everything around be falling apart but those be so straight and orderly? Then she shook her head. Get yourself together, she thought. Tidy this place up and get ready for the onslaught. A banged head and dizzy spell is no excuse for shirking your duty.
Still shaking, she quickly set about restoring order, and then it hit her that the screams had stopped. Gingerly she made her way to the door and stepped out. The sky was bright with the light of blazing fires, and the smell was overpowering. She gazed upwards, bemused by the orange glow, shuddering at what it might mean – for the city, for the docks, for the houses around. Where were her family? Were they safe? She bit her lip. If they weren’t, there was nothing she could do about it now. She mustn’t think about it or it would overwhelm her.
Not far ahead of her, along the street, something dark lay on the pavement. With a growing horror filling her, she ran to it and crouched down. The familiar dark material of a nurse’s cloak was easily recognisable even in these conditions. ‘Jean, Jean, are you all right? It’s me. Listen, I’ll help you up.’ Sarah reached out to the older woman and gave her a little shake. There was no response. Carefully Sarah pulled back the cloak, and then sat back on her heels with a gasp of horror. Jean’s face was intact but her head was at the wrong angle, and there was blood across the upper half of her body, pouring from an unseen wound. Cautiously Sarah felt the woman’s neck and then reached for her wrist – but she knew it was futile. Jean was dead.