Back home, I considered my actions. I was fulfilling Sissy’s dreams. She wanted me to be bolder, to fight for equality, and stand up for my rights. But what about my dear parents? My heart was breaking for them. Their dread would be devastating, especially my mother’s who believed everything came in threes. From the cliff top, I gazed over the English Channel, watching ships, trying to visualise what it would be like to work on one as a warrior in the war for my country. Mrs Pankhurst would be proud, and once my parents had got over their fears, they would be proud too.

I informed Mother and Father of the application at dinner that evening. Father shouted and banged the table top so hard, the salt cellar toppled. Mother cried and begged me to withdraw my application, but I explained that I would help save the lives of young men like my darling brother. Perhaps, if there had been one more pair of hands, my sister may not have been so terribly tired and overworked. If she had been stronger, she may not have caught the influenza in the first place.

Father stood and banged his fists on the table again. ‘How dare you use your departed brother and sister as a weapon to get your own way! You will never attain the skills and self-discipline to step into their shoes!’

His words felt like a knife had been plunged into my chest.

I looked him straight in the eyes. ‘I know, Father.’

The room fell silent. Ashamed of using my siblings to change my parents’ minds, I felt abandoned.

I retired to my room, where I cried and cried, proving my father right. Sissy never cried; she would throw a tantrum.

After much thought, I decided to take the first step and train. After all, I may never be accepted into the Voluntary Aid Detachment, I explained to Mother.

‘You can’t go, Gertie! I forbid it!’ she said the next morning. ‘I haven’t slept a wink, nor shall I if you persist with this madness.’

‘Mother, you can’t deny me my dream. Besides, I must do it for poor Arthur and Sissy. It was Sissy’s dream too, remember? What Father said hurt me terribly, Mother, but what I said was true, if there’d been one extra pair of hands in the hospital, Arthur might have made it. Or at least I could have done my best – instead of doing nothing.’