Every fortnight, a despatch rider would arrive on a motorbike and sidecar. He’d take a dozen birds away, and I’d await their return. I was paid generously – twenty shillings a week – and they also supplied a sack of corn for the birds. I loved my job, although sometimes the young policemen would tease me and make me blush. I wanted to follow Sissy and be a nurse and there’s no place for shyness in nursing, so it was vital I gain control of my fiery cheeks as soon as possible.

Life reached an uneasy harmony, but then we received a letter from France. Sissy had come down with the Spanish influenza, which was killing people faster than the war. We were all afraid and watched each other for the symptoms: headache, temperature, dry cough.

Please, Sissy, get better soon!

I was sitting under the tree, about to read one of my sister’s letters. In my mind’s eye, I could see her smiling face and hear her so clearly.

It’s a brave new world, Gertie. Make the most of it.

I must have been staring up the lane because suddenly I realised the telegram boy was cycling towards me but I could still hear Sissy’s voice.

Don’t be sad, Gertie. We’ll meet again, I promise you.

I jumped up to run indoors, not wanting to sign for the telegram while Father was out. Before I’d reached the door, I turned and hurried back to the gate, my heart thumping. Unable to speak for the pain of holding back tears, I took the envelope and signed the receipt. There was no way I wanted to put Mother through the agony.

When I turned to walk away, Albert said, ‘Sorry, but you should read it, miss, in case you want to send a reply.’

I stood there like a fool – what should I do?

Albert said, ‘Do you want me to read it to you?’

It was too much. I shook my head and tore it open.

It is with deep regret . . .

The influenza had quickly turned into pneumonia. Despite the doctors’ efforts, in a matter of days Sissy had passed away.

The following weeks were dark and empty, and my parents were bleak with sorrow. The funeral drained us all, we felt such loss. Mother continued to set two extra places at the table, and Father withdrew further into himself. I became most aware of how sacred, yet fragile, life is. Despite the continuing bombing raids, life went on without our brave Arthur and my darling Sissy. I searched for a way to make up for my parents’ loss, but all I managed was to feel an immense sense of loneliness.

*

A poster on the police station wall caught my eye. Three women in starched white aprons and clipped veils stood side by side.

VAD. NURSING MEMBERS urgently needed. Apply inside.