Chapters (74)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Also by Anita Frank
- Note to Readers
- Dedication
- Part One
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Part Two
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Chapter Forty-Five
- Chapter Forty-Six
- Chapter Forty-Seven
- Chapter Forty-Eight
- Chapter Forty-Nine
- Chapter Fifty
- Chapter Fifty-One
- Chapter Fifty-Two
- Chapter Fifty-Three
- Chapter Fifty-Four
- Chapter Fifty-Five
- Chapter Fifty-Six
- Chapter Fifty-Seven
- Chapter Fifty-Eight
- Chapter Fifty-Nine
- Chapter Sixty
- Acknowledgements
- Extract
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- About the Publisher
For a long while after Gerald’s death, I feared I had surrendered my sanity to grief – in the early days, I had certainly surrendered my will to live. For the first day or so after it happened, Matron, a stern Welsh woman with a reputation for brooking no nonsense, had been surprisingly indulgent and understanding. I lay immobile in my bed, unable to eat, unable to sleep, unable, even, to weep. My fellow VAD nurses spoke in hushed almost reverential whispers as they moved around our tent, eager not to disturb me. Their sympathy was as tangible as their relief that the tragedy had not been theirs.
When I showed no signs of improvement, Matron had suggested a trip home might sort me out, but as my stupor spread from a few days into a week, her tone became more strident, her patience wearing thin, until a sojourn at home was not a suggestion but an order. The girls packed my things for me. I think we all understood I would not be coming back.
I can’t remember much of the journey from the continent, I had lost all interest in life by then. I do remember standing at the ship’s rail as she rolled across the churning grey Channel. I remember holding onto the rain-soaked railing and thinking how slippery it was beneath my freezing fingers. I rested my booted foot on the bottom rung, staring at the heaving waves as they crashed against the hull. My head dropped towards my chest as I strained to hear the siren’s call enticing me from beneath the surging waves, the spray spitting in my face with contemptuous disregard for my suffering.
The ship listed and I stumbled sideways. An officer caught my arm and steadied me, his face half concealed by a bandage. He shouted over the roar of the waves that it might be best if we go back in, and I offered no resistance as he took my elbow and guided me through the iron door. He said something to a nurse inside, something I couldn’t hear, and she came to me as he disappeared down the stairs, his heavy boots clanking against the steel grated steps to the lower deck. Her face softened when she saw my blank expression. She led me back to my quarters and put me to bed, tucking the blankets about me so tightly I could barely breathe. Perhaps she thought they might hinder any further attempts at wandering.