Feeling something trickle down her legs, Queenie leapt out of bed and was mortified to see blood, not only on her skin and clothes but on Mrs Briggs’ white flannelette sheet.

Surely she wasn’t dying? And how was she going to tell Mrs Briggs that she’d ruined her lovely white sheet? She lifted up the sheet and was horrified to see the blood had seeped through to the mattress too.

Queenie burst into tears. What was she going to do?

Betty Briggs had been ever so nice about her situation. She’d sat her down, wiped away her tears and told her not to worry at all about the sheet or mattress. She’d then explained about the birds and the bees and given Queenie something that looked like bandages to stem the blood flow.

Later that evening, Queenie lay in bed not only feeling very stupid, but also thoroughly annoyed with her mother. Why had her mum never explained that her body would change at some point in her teenage years?

‘You still got a tummy ache, Queen?’ asked Viv.

‘No. The tablets Betty gave me worked far better than those awful-tasting Epsom Salts we’re forced to take at home.’ Queenie propped herself up on her elbow. ‘I felt so humiliated today, Viv. I honestly thought I might be dying, that something had burst in my stomach. Why didn’t Mum tell us about this, eh? Mrs O’Leary would have, I know she would. It’ll happen to you too, you’ll start bleeding in a year or so. It means you’re ready to make babies.’

Eleven-year-old Vivian shuddered at the prospect. ‘Not sure I want to have babies or be a midwife after all,’ she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

When Vivian finally fell asleep, Queenie read Mrs O’Leary’s letter once more. Because they were Irish, Patrick and Daniel wouldn’t be called up to join the British Army. Ireland had decided to remain neutral in the war. Currently, the O’Learys were living back in Ireland, driven out of London by the Blitz. They still had the house opposite hers, but wouldn’t return until the bombing stopped.

Queenie chuckled inwardly as she read one particular paragraph over and over again.

Daniel and that blonde tart have split up, Queenie. I’m fecking glad. Never liked the silly girl in the first place. She was all over him like a rash whenever he brought her round mine. I knew it wouldn’t last. Good riddance to Lucy.

Queenie folded the letter up and put it in her bedside drawer. She never read Mrs O’Leary’s letters to Viv. It didn’t seem right. Mary was her friend, not her sister’s.

Smiling, Queenie shut her eyes. She’d got over her embarrassment of earlier and Mrs Briggs had promised not to tell her husband or anybody else. Thinking about Daniel, Queenie drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

CHAPTER THREE

Two Months Later

May 1941

‘What does Mum say?’ asked Viv. ‘Read it out loud,’ she demanded.