My knees almost buckled with relief.

The surgeon turned to me. ‘Thank you, nurse. Your work’s done here. Disembark and report to your Chief Medical Officer on the quayside. They’re treating as many casualties as possible, changing dressings and so on, before bringing them aboard.’

‘Very good, sir.’ I longed to bid Perkins a proper farewell, perhaps even gather him up in a hug, and plant a farewell kiss on his handsome face, but the first rule of nursing was not to get involved with a patient. I turned to him, threw my shoulders back and lifted my chin. ‘Goodbye, Corporal. Safe journey and good luck with the new leg.’ I left the room in a few quick steps.

*

I hurried to collect my belongings and disembark. Looking out from the deck, I studied the layout of Mudros. Long promontories on either side of the port made the harbour seem more like a wide river. As far as I could see, there were at least six battleships moored up in the bay and twice as many barges, loading goods onto the ships. Further along the quayside, cranes lowered barrels and equipment onto more barges. The distant horizon of Lemnos was broken by an arid mountain range that, in the morning light, took on the shape of a man’s head.

The valley of Mudros was a town of white tents that filled the port and continued into the distant foothills. Barrels and bulging sacks lined the road towards the mountains as far as I could see. Stretchers bearing wounded soldiers covered the quayside below our ship.

I hurried down the ramp, past orderlies who supported limping, sagging men with grey faces. Nurse Josephine hefted her bag onto land, then attended injured men who were about to be stretchered aboard. The quayside rang with shouted orders, ambulance engines, and some plaintive cries from the badly wounded. The stench of cigarette smoke, engine fumes and body odour accompanied the general racket and bedlam. Stretcher-bearers could not shift the patients as quickly as they arrived at the dock by ambulance.

Consequently, everything backed up with rows of wounded, some unconscious, some dully bemoaning their missing limbs. One soldier extended half an arm towards me, ‘Please . . . please . . .’ he whimpered. I saw pale faces, pleading eyes. Dull, red-brown stains of old blood. That stale stink of death lay damp and heavy as morning mist, in the still air hanging over Mudros harbour.

I understood this was the start of my penance. An atonement that I feared would last my whole life long.

Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

SHELLY

Dover, present day.

AFTER SUNDAY BREAKFAST, GORDON LOOKED up from his racing magazine. ‘Are you packing already? I thought you weren’t going for another few weeks?’

‘You’re right, I’m not. I just wanted to get some things in the case, Dad.’

‘Shelly love, do yer really think you’ll need that old blanket in Greece. It is summer, you know?’