He was crouching beside the stretcher bed in the ambulance, trying to sound both cheerful and positive, but in fact he felt downright terrified, Edie was so white, so drained. The ambulance men had dressed the dreadful wrist and now it was tightly swathed in white bandages, but they had also told him that his missus, as they called her, might have other injuries: a broken shoulder, three broken ribs, an elbow which had been jerked out of joint and a broken tibia, all on her left side.

‘Is your missus right-handed?’ one of the ambulance men had asked.

Albert cleared his throat. ‘Yes,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Thank God for small mercies.’

‘Well, even so you’ll find yourself doing all sorts of housework for a few weeks yet,’ the ambulance man said. He had looked keenly at Albert and then, seeming to like what he saw, added: ‘Or maybe it’s more likely to be months than weeks. But I can see you’re the sort of feller who’s learned to cope with trouble. In the forces, were you, during the war? They teach you how to stay calm in the face of adversity.’

Albert, however, had had to shake his head. ‘No, but I was an ARP warden and a member of St John’s Ambulance. I had to deal with all sorts, which has stood me in good stead tonight.’

Edie Williams heard voices, though none that she recognised; they were echoing, strange, coming at her from several different angles. She tried to listen, but the words which she could catch made no sense. So she tried instead to open her eyes to see what was happening. Her eyelids, heavy as lead, refused to lift. Then a voice that she did know came to her ears. It was Albert’s voice, her good friend Albert, and he was telling her that she would be all right. Edie found this immensely comforting, though she saw no reason for him to say it. If she was in danger she could not imagine what form such danger could take. She opened her mouth to ask Albert what he was talking about, but no sound came out. For a moment more she tried to listen, and then she made another attempt to open her eyes, but as she did so a violent pain shot from her shoulder right down to her fingertips. She gave a gasp and a moan, and the voice she did not recognise spoke comfortingly. ‘There you are, Mrs Williams. Just a little injection to help keep the pain at bay until you’re stronger.’ Edie was suddenly sure that she recognised that voice. Not to whom it belonged; she recognised it as the sort of voice a doctor uses to a patient. She tried to nod her head to show that she understood, but she was sinking into what felt like a bed of feathers, which, if she allowed them to, would float her into the darkness from which it seemed she had barely emerged. She made another effort to lift her lids, to demand to be told where she was and what had happened to her. She knew of course that she was Mrs Edie Williams . . . but other than that she was still fighting to regain her full senses when she felt her hand taken once more, and a voice both dear and familiar spoke close against her ear.