His Diamond Bride

‘They’ll have taken him to another ward,’ Dee said reassuringly. ‘I’ll go and ask.’

She hurried out, seizing a phone to call an ambulance official, who promised to contact her in a few minutes. Then she called her mother, who gave a little shriek on hearing the news. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming. Tell her.’

Dee returned to the ward. Sylvia’s eyes had closed again and it would be best to let her sleep, at least until there was some news. A quick glance at the notes told her the worst. Sylvia had been badly injured. Her chances were poor.

‘No,’ Dee said to herself. ‘It can’t happen.’

But it could and she knew it.

She had other patients who needed her care, but while she was tending them her eyes constantly turned to the end of the ward, watching for Sylvia to wake. Part of her didn’t believe this was happening. And part of her knew that the worst was going to befall her despite her resolutions.

Hurry, she whispered inwardly to her mother, while there’s still time.

The ward sister approached and Dee explained briefly. ‘My mother will be here soon and-there she is, just coming in.’

‘Take care of her,’ the sister said kindly. ‘The others can do your work for a while.’

‘Where is she?’ Helen asked, running towards her in tears.

‘Mum, be ready for a shock. She’s badly hurt.’

Sylvia opened her eyes as her mother approached and Dee had the satisfaction of seeing them reach out to each other.

But then she saw the sister beckoning. Her face was grave. ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news,’ she said. ‘The baby was dead when they found him. They couldn’t tell her because she was unconscious.’

‘Oh, no,’ Dee whispered. ‘How can I tell her?’

Approaching the bed, she found Helen talking feverishly. ‘Just as soon as you can be moved, I’m taking you home, you and the baby, and you’ll live with us and we won’t care what the neighbours say. Everything’s going to be all right.’

‘Oh, yes, please, Mum…please…you’re going to love Joey. I named him after Dad.’

‘He’ll like that,’ Helen choked. ‘We’re all going to be so happy.’

Dee wondered if her mother really believed this. How much did she understand? Could she see that her daughter was dying, or was she spared that for the moment?

Sylvia’s eyes were closed and she was talking wildly, her breath coming in shaky gasps that were getting worse. ‘Mum…Mum…’

‘Yes, darling, I’m here. Hold on.’

But Sylvia was no longer capable of holding on. Her breath faded, her hands fell away.

‘No!’ The cry broke from Helen as she gathered her lifeless daughter in her arms. ‘No, you’ve got to stay with me. We’re going home together and I’m going to look after you… Sylvia… Sylvia!’

She burst into violent sobs, clutching her daughter’s body and shaking it, as though trying to infuse it with life, and crying her name over and over.

Dee felt for a pulse, although she knew it was useless. Her sister was dead.

Helen had recognised the truth and gently lay her child back on the bed.

‘We haven’t lost her,’ she choked. ‘Not really. We’ll look after the baby, and it’ll be like she’s still with us.’

‘Mum-’

Helen’s voice and her eyes became desperate. ‘We’ll do that, won’t we? We must find the baby and take him home. Yes, that’s what we’ll do…that’s what…what we…’ Her breath began to come in long gasps. She clutched her throat, then her heart while her eyes widened.

‘Help me,’ Dee cried, supporting Helen in her arms.

Helping hands appeared. An oxygen mask was fitted over Helen’s face but it was too late. The heart attack was massive and she was dead in minutes.

‘Go with them,’ the ward sister said as the two women were taken away to the hospital mortuary. ‘Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.’

‘It was bound to happen,’ Dee whispered. ‘When Sylvia went away she suffered badly, but she always nursed the hope they’d be reunited. Sylvia’s death destroyed her.’ Tears began to run down her face. ‘Oh, heavens! How am I going to tell my father? His wife, his daughter, his grandson, all on the same day.’

Now the shock was getting to her and she began to shiver uncontrollably. She was still shivering when Joe arrived at the hospital and joined her in the mortuary. His face was so pale and grey that for a dreadful moment she feared she was about to lose him, too.

She told him what had happened, adding, ‘Sylvia died in her arms.’

‘Then they found each other again,’ he said. ‘Thank God! Sylvia was always her favourite.’ Then he added gently, ‘Just like you were always mine.’

Until then, she’d never appreciated her father’s strength, but it was a new, tougher man who told her to leave the funeral arrangements to him because, ‘You’ve been through enough.’

And it was true-she was reaching the end of her tether. She almost gave way entirely when she and Joe stood in the mortuary regarding Sylvia with her baby in her arms, ready to be buried together. Joe’s arm was strong about her, but even he nearly yielded to terrible grief at the sight of the child.

‘My grandson,’ he whispered as tears streamed down his face. ‘My first ever grandchild, and we meet like this. Poor Sylvia. Poor Helen.’

They supported each other through the three-way funeral, and afterwards Joe put his arms around her. ‘We’ve both lost everyone else,’ he said huskily. ‘There’s just us now, love.’

Like others who had suffered devastating losses, Dee and her father survived as day passed into day, week into week and month into month. He’d said they had just each other, and for now neither of them wanted anyone else. Christmas 1942 was their first alone, and they were thankful to pass it quietly, refusing all invitations.

These days she relied totally on Mr Royce for news of Mark, so that when she went in one morning in the new year to find him looking grave, she knew what had happened.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ she said bleakly.

For a moment the world went dark. She clutched the back of a chair, then felt him supporting her until she sat down.

‘No,’ he said. ‘He isn’t dead.’

‘Not dead? Do you mean that?’

‘I swear to you that he’s alive, but he’s very badly hurt. His Spitfire was hit during a battle. He just managed to limp home but, as he landed, the plane burst into flames. They brought him here. He’s lucky to be alive.’

‘But he is alive-and he’s going to stay alive, isn’t he? Isn’t he?’

‘I think so.’ The words were cautious.

‘But it’s not certain?’

‘He’s been very badly burned and he needs help. It’s lucky you’re here. The sight of you will help him.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Come this way.’

As they went along the corridor he said, ‘I’ve had him put in a separate ward. I’d better warn you that he looks pretty alarming. He was engulfed in flames. It was a miracle that his face escaped. His helmet saved him, but he has burns all over his torso, and an injury to the head where he hit it.’

She paused as they reached a door, Mr Royce pushing it open quietly and standing aside.

Dee approached slowly, and gradually the bed came into view. Then she stopped, appalled, shaking at the sight. In her worst nightmares she hadn’t imagined this.

The man on the bed could have been anybody, so totally was he covered in bandages. They extended over his torso, his arms, up over his neck and around his head.

Where was the daredevil young hero who laughed in the face of danger? Gone-and in his place lay this helpless