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although wounded herself, had got to work.

Violet briefly wrapped her arms around Lily, squeezing her tightly. Lily leaned into the older woman’s embrace gratefully, but too soon Violet pushed her gently away. ‘Best thing you can do for your sister now is help me with these men. Emma’s gone, but we might be able to save some lives, here.’

Lily took a deep shuddering breath and nodded. ‘Of course. What can I do?’

‘Help me with these dressings,’ Violet said to her, passing her some pads and bandages and kneeling beside the injured man. Lily knelt down beside her to patch the man up.

‘I’m dying, aren’t I?’ he said to them.

Lily thought he probably was, and began to say something soothing, but Violet told him sternly, ‘No, you’re not going to die, because I’ve been praying for you to live.’

Once the man was seen to, the girls were asked to help cut up life belts to make more dressings, and Lily was kept busy for the next couple of hours until the rescue ship arrived. She was thankful for the activity, which helped keep her mind off her loss. She went into the building where the dead lay one more time, knelt for a moment by Emma’s body and said her farewells. ‘I’ll never forget you, Ems. I love you. Thank you for saving me.’

Emma’s remains, along with the others who had perished, would be picked up and buried in a British war cemetery later, she was told.

The rescue ship turned out to be a destroyer, to her surprise. She’d imagined another requisitioned liner. On board HMS Foxhound the crew were warm and welcoming towards the Britannic survivors. Fresh clothing – mostly male of course – was provided.

‘What I want most is a decent meal,’ Violet said, eyeing up a sailor’s jumper.

Lily was hungry too, but realised that Violet had missed breakfast that morning, as she’d been at Mass. Was it only that morning that they’d been on board the Britannic? The crew handed out cups of hot chocolate which was something, at least. Emma loved hot chocolate, Lily thought, and she found herself looking around for her sister before remembering, with a shock, what had happened.

The day was still not over. They were transferred to another ship, then taken to Piraeus on the Greek mainland, and put in a hotel. At last, a meal, though Lily did not feel she’d be able to manage much. Before eating, Lily was amazed to see Violet cleaning her teeth in a bathroom. ‘Where on earth did you get that toothbrush?’ she asked.

Violet smiled. ‘It’s mine. Remember I had a few things tucked in my apron? Amazing that it all stayed in there, despite me being in the water. And now I have clean teeth.’

Lily turned away before Violet saw the tears springing to her eyes. Violet had clean teeth, but she, Lily, had lost a sister.

They didn’t stay long at Piraeus – soon a hospital ship, already packed with wounded soldiers, arrived to take them on to Malta. Here they were classed as ‘distressed British seamen’ and told that arrangements were being made for a homeward journey mostly via land through Italy and France, it being thought that the Britannic survivors had had enough of ships. Violet seemed happy on Malta – although her leg injury still gave her pain, she managed to meet up with a brother who was stationed there. ‘We’ve been sight-seeing today,’ she told Lily one evening. ‘It’s so good to spend time with William.’ Then she’d stared at Lily, as though suddenly remembering that Lily had lost her sister, and she’d clamped her mouth shut and turned away, embarrassed.

Lily was trying not to think about her loss. It was better to remain numb, and just get through each day as best she could, finding things to occupy her so that she could not dwell on her loss. There would be time enough back in Southampton to grieve, when she returned to her old family home – the last remaining Higgins sister. The last of the entire family.

Frank was a great comfort. He spent most of his time with her, not always talking, but just being there, helping her, taking care of her. His gentle, sympathetic presence was slowly helping her come to terms with all that had happened.

‘I’ll do everything I can for you,’ he promised. ‘You’ve lost so much. Let me help you.’ And she was happy to let him help, to lean on him emotionally and sometimes physically, as they waited for news of how they were to be repatriated.

Chapter 29

Harriet

By Saturday evening Harriet was once again exhausted but happy. Charlie had spent the day with her as he’d promised, and the bungalow was now habitable. He’d worked first on her bedroom – putting together her bed and wardrobe and placing her chest of drawers and smaller furniture items where she wanted them. They’d then unpacked boxes, put sheets on the bed and hung clothes in the wardrobe.

‘Bathroom next – it’s a quick win,’ said Charlie over a cup of coffee, and indeed it was. Two boxes to empty – one of toiletries and one of towels and bathmats and it was done.

The kitchen took longer, as decisions had to be made as to where to put everything but eventually it was done, and the pile of emptied and flattened boxes in the garage was growing. The removals company would come to collect them in a week.

In the evening, after Charlie had gone, Harriet spent a while unpacking books and arranging them on her bookcases, but stopped halfway through, exhausted. She dug out a bottle of wine, opened it, and decided to spend an hour or so relaxing before attempting to sleep in her new home. She picked up her phone to check for any messages. There was a text from Sally hoping that all had gone well and promising to call the next morning, and there was a WhatsApp message from Robert.

On my way

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