I met the very dapper Corporal Perkins from our ward. He’s here now, walking very well with his new leg and flirting with everyone in his gentlemanly way.

An investigation into the loss of the Britannic took place on the flagship, Duncan, on 24 November, just before we left for Malta. Apparently, they couldn’t get all the survivors together for the inquiry. More than thirty people died, but God knows how many were injured, at least twice as many. They say the Britannic hit a mine, but sank before reaching land because someone went against orders and opened the portholes on E deck. Can you believe that? Our own ward, Gertie!

I’m shocked, but I can’t remember who was on duty when we went to our breakfast meeting, can you? There’s talk they should be hanged, not only because of the thirty killed, and the many injured, but also for the thousands that will die on Lemnos for lack of transport back home.

I could not get my breath, and leaned against the harbour wall.

‘Trouble?’ Josephine asked. ‘Your parents?’

I shook my head, unable to speak.

‘It can’t be that bad, Gertie, tell me,’ she said quite matter-of-factly. ‘Do you have bad news from home?’

‘Swear you’ll never tell?’

She nodded.

‘It was me that opened the portholes!’

‘You! Dear Jesus in Heaven, you?’ She stared at me. ‘You shouldn’t have told me. Now what am I supposed to do? If they ask me questions, I can’t lie.’

‘Do you think they’ll hang me? Perkins and the other patients bullied me – over and over – to open them for ten minutes, to let the bedpan stink out. Ward sister told me to use my initiative, you see; so in the end I did.’ I tumbled on. ‘I should never have lied about my age, but with my poor sister and brother both dead because of the war, I wanted to fight for England on their behalf, do you understand? Now I’m so terribly sorry and I don’t know which way to turn.’

‘Stop! You lied about your age, and nobody checked? Shame on them.’

I shook my head. ‘I’d done really well in training, Matron said so. How was I to know we’d hit a mine or a torpedo a few minutes after I’d opened the portholes?’

‘So how old are you?’

‘Eighteen. Nearly nineteen.’

‘Eighteen, and you’ve had people’s lives in your hands, and taken part in the surgery? Oh, my dear lord!’

‘The only people that know it was me, as far as I can guess, are you and Perkins, and I believe he’s forgotten. I think he lost part of his memory when he was hit on the head.’

Now I’d made matters worse. How could I stop Josephine telling the inquiry panel it was me?

*