I need to fetch the ambulance, she thought, and—

“I told you things could happen just like that, with no warning,” Fairchild said. “If anything happens to me—”

“Shh, Paige, you’ll be fine.” Mary attempted to move the pieces of wood, but they were too entangled. She needed both hands. She propped the torch against a heap of bricks so that it shone on Fairchild and set to work.

“If anything happens,” Fairchild repeated, “I want you to—oh! You’re hurt! You’re bleeding!”

“It’s printer’s ink,” Mary said, trying to extract her from the strips of wood.

It was like a child’s game. She had to carefully pull one piece out at a time, all the while not disturbing the slat stabbing into Fairchild’s arm.

There was a sudden whoosh and boom, and orange flames boiled up behind the silhouetted ambulance. “Was that another V-2?” Fairchild asked.

“No, I think that was the gas main,” Mary said, looking over at the flames. She saw two ambulances and a fire engine pull up. “The rescue squad’s here. Over here!” and heard the slamming of several doors and some voices. “Casualty here!” She stood up and waved the torch, sweeping it back and forth like a searchlight, and then knelt back down next to Fairchild. “They’ll be here in a moment.”

Fairchild nodded. “If anything happens to me—”

“Nothing’s—” she began, and thought with horror, It wasn’t Stephen who was killed. It was Paige. That’s why I was allowed to come through the net, to come between them, because nothing I did made any difference. Because Paige was killed by a V-2.

But she wouldn’t have been here in the rubble if I hadn’t come between them. She wouldn’t have switched with Camberley, she wouldn’t have stopped the car to talk to me.

And if she hadn’t stopped the car, they wouldn’t have heard the V-1—

“No, listen, Mary,” Fairchild said. “If anything happens to me, I want you to take care of Stephen. He—”

There was the sound of running feet, and a girl in a St. John’s Ambulance coverall ran up and knelt over her.

“Not me,” Mary said, “she’s the one who’s hurt. Her arm—”

“I’ll need a stretcher!” the girl shouted, and someone else raced up to them.

“Oh, heavens, is that Fairchild?” the new arrival said, and Mary saw that it was Camberley. “It’s Fairchild and Douglas! Get over here quickly!” and instantly Reed was there with the first-aid kit, and Parrish and the stretcher were right behind her.

“What are you doing here, De Havilland?” Reed asked, bending down beside Mary. “I thought you’d gone to Streatham.”

She was right, they were supposed to have gone to Streatham. Why hadn’t they? She couldn’t remember.

“You’re supposed to go to the incident after the flying bomb hits, Douglas, not before,” Camberley said cheerfully, squatting down next to Mary.

“We did,” she said. “There was a V-1, and then—”

“I was joking, dear,” Camberley said. “Here, let me have a look at your temple.”