Figures were staggering from the building, their faces grey with dust and hardly recognizable. Kate saw a tall, plump figure emerge, her arm about a girl whose sleek blonde hair was dishevelled. She had never seen Isobel Cartwright look such a mess.

Kate rushed forward. ‘Mavis, are you all right? Isobel?’

‘I’m okay,’ Mavis gasped, ‘but Isobel’s got a cut on her face.’

Philip’s deep voice spoke suddenly close by. ‘Is everybody out of the place?’

‘No,’ Mavis said. ‘We can’t find Edith.’

‘Where was she?’

‘In the Met Room,’ Mavis said.

Already people were digging at the rubble. ‘Go carefully,’ Philip shouted. ‘There may be people still alive but trapped.’ He turned back to the three girls and, nodding towards the wilting Isobel, said, ‘Look after her. I’ll have to get back to my office – if it’s still standing – and see if I can organize some help. Kate – you stay here. I want you to act as my runner . . .’ He paused briefly, and looked at her. Even in the midst of all the devastation, a small smile quirked the corner of his mouth at the aptness of the task he was giving her. No one else he knew could run as fast as Kate Hilton. ‘Keep me informed of everything that’s going on, will you?’

Kate nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

*

Two hours later they found the bodies; there were three. An airman and two WAAFs. One was Edith.

‘She wouldn’t have known what hit her, Kate,’ Philip said gently, when she burst, breathless, into his office, her eyes wide, her cap stuffed into her pocket and her hair flying free, all protocol forgotten in her agitation.

‘Here, sit down . . .’ He pushed her firmly into a chair and closed the door between them and the outer office. ‘You could do with a drink.’ From the drawer of his desk he took a bottle and two glasses.

‘Oh, I didn’t ought . . .’

‘I know, I know,’ he said impatiently. ‘You’re on duty and you didn’t ought to drink, specially not with your CO. But this is for medicinal purposes only.’ Holding out the glass to her, he added, ‘And it’s an order. Perhaps it’s one you won’t mind obeying – for once.’

Kate was still shaking, her hands felt cold and clammy. Seeing Edith’s lifeless body, covered in dust, being dragged from the wreckage, had made her feel physically sick.

‘No – I mean – I didn’t ought to because – because it goes to my head a bit quick.’

‘My dear girl, I’m not suggesting you should get roaring drunk.’

‘No, but I – I tend to talk too much even when I’ve only had a little.’

He came and sat on the corner of the desk, just above her. Gently he picked up her hand and put the glass into it, making sure she was gripping it before he let go.