‘I’m here,’ Mother croaked. ‘Stay where you are while I light a candle.’
Bobby moved on the upper bunk, unravelling himself slowly, his groans blurred with sleep.
‘It was the worst night so far,’ said Mother, as she lifted the candle and rose awkwardly from the armchair. ‘Are you two all right?’
Daisy stood up, shaking out the dirt from the shelter ceiling that had fallen on to her. ‘I thought we were going to die,’ she whispered and Mother’s arms went round her. Bobby joined them and they remained still, holding one another, unable to believe they’d survived.
When at last they emerged, a sulphur-smelling fog swept in.
‘Don’t breathe too deeply,’ Mother instructed.
Daisy stepped over the rubble, until the fog cleared sufficiently to reveal the outline of the house. At first, it looked as though by some miracle, the building might have remained in tact. But as she pushed open the creaking kitchen door, a curling grey funnel of smoke billowed out. A scarlet flame leapt into the air and Mother grabbed her shoulder.
‘An incendiary!’ she shrieked, pulling Daisy away.
Almost in the same instant, a dozen other smaller flames ignited and the kitchen became a cauldron of heat.
The last thing Daisy remembered was Mother screaming, an instant before an almighty blast sent her flying. A pain seared across her forehead and lifted her off her feet. It was as if she had been swept up into an invisible force, propelling everything and everyone in its path into the foggy, evil-smelling air.
Daisy woke to the sound of a garbled echo which was somehow attached to a head that wobbled and weaved across her line of vision.
‘ ‘Ello there, ducks,’ said a vaguely familiar voice. ‘You decided to open yer old mince pies, then?’
The blurry face was smiling and she recognised the dirty peaked cap. Mr Cook gave her a cheery wink. ‘ ‘Ow do yer feel, kid?’
Daisy blinked and tried to move. ‘My head hurts.’
‘Too right it does,’ agreed Mr Cook. ‘You took a bit of a wallop.’
Daisy looked down at her feet poking up from under a cover. Apparently she was laying in the back of a large vehicle. ‘Where am I?’
‘In an ambulance on the way to ‘orspital, kid.’
‘Where’s ‘orspital?’ asked Daisy trying to fathom what Mr Cook meant. ‘Where’s Bobby and Mother?’
‘They’re on their way to ‘orspital too. Don’t worry, you’ll catch up with ‘em soon.’
‘Wh … what happened?’ Daisy looked around at the grey blankets piled on the bench where Mr Cook was sitting. At the stretcher bracketed against the wall. And a strange looking gas mask attached to a long tube.
‘Lay back, kid. You’ve got a massive lump on yer loaf.’
Daisy wanted to smile but instead she burst into tears. Mr Cook took a rag from his pocket and pressed it over her cheeks.
‘Now, now, it’s the shock, see.’
‘I want Mother and Bobby,’ she sobbed.
‘Course you do. But first we’ve got to get you right. You took the full whack of the blast, see? Gawd knows how you survived. ’
Through her tears, she began to recall the burning hole in what was once the kitchen floor, a great hungry mouth spiting flames.
If only Pops was here.
‘Hello,’ said a man wearing a white coat. ‘I believe your name is Daisy Purbright, is that correct?’
Daisy nodded. ‘Is this a hospital?’
‘It is indeed. And I’m Dr Deacon.’
‘Are Mother and Bobby here?’
‘They’re quite safe and have been taken elsewhere for treatment.’
‘Are they all right?’
The doctor nodded. ‘Just a few cuts and bruises, luckily.’
Daisy stifled a sob of relief. She knew something awful must have happened, but Mother and Bobby were safe and that was what mattered.
‘Now,’ said the doctor firmly. ‘I’d like you to relax while Sister Thomas takes care of you.’
Before she could ask more, her head fell back on the pillow, seemingly of its own accord. From this position she watched the doctor leave and a nurse replace him.
‘Hello, Daisy, I’m Sister Thomas.’ The older woman with a rather severe expression raised an eyebrow.
Daisy attempted to speak, but any movement was far too painful.
‘You’ll be with us for a while,’ continued the Sister. ’I’ve dressed you in a hospital gown. Your clothes will be put in a locker once you’re in the children’s ward and returned to you when you’re discharged.’
Daisy peered at the long cotton robe that seemed to be covering most of her body. ‘Can I get up?’
‘Not yet. You have suffered a head wound and smaller abrasions caused by an incendiary bomb’s blast. I’m afraid it’s a case of bed rest for a while.’
‘But Mother will be worried,’ she protested as the Sister began to bathe her head.
‘Just lay still, my dear.’
‘Ouch!’ Daisy yelped as the nurse seemed to be pulling at parts of her brain.
‘You have small pieces of debris in your injury. It’s important they’re all removed before having stitches. ‘
Daisy clenched her hands together in an effort not to cry as the tiny splinters were removed from her head. With a great effort, she managed to grit her teeth and bear the pain that seemed to go on endlessly.
‘All done,’ said Sister Thomas at last as she discarded the instruments of torture and removed her apron. Daisy lay in silence as the Sister eyed her firmly. ’Dr Deacon examined you when you were admitted. Do you remember what he did?’
While resisting the painful sensation of tiny knife points attacking her scalp, Daisy tried to think back. A faint picture came to mind of someone’s hands in front of her. ‘He asked me how many fingers I could count. Then there was a bright light in my eyes.’
‘Very good,’ Sister Thomas praised. ‘That means you have good recall - so far. Now, I’d like you to rest while I’m gone. I shall arrange a bed for you on the children’s ward in time for supper. I expect you’re hungry.’
Daisy was about to agree that she was - when she realized she wasn’t. Her head hurt when she tried to speak. And she
