‘Gertie Smith, I would go down on one knee if I could. You know that I love you with all my heart, and I hope, one day, you will do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

‘Corporal Perkins, this is hardly the right place or time! I can’t think.’

He lifted my hand to kiss the back, then he noticed the dolphin ring. ‘Why are you wearing a ring on your wedding finger?’

Surprised by the sudden cold tone to his voice, I answered. ‘Oh, erm, yes, it rescues me from unwelcome advances, from male patients.’

‘Am I making unwelcome advances?’

‘No, of course not. Also, it’s a dolphin, to remind me of my rescue on that terrible day when we all almost died.’ My thoughts went to Manno and our afternoon in Syros when he gave me the ring. With burning cheeks, I remembered his words: You are mine, agapi mou!

‘I can see I’ve embarrassed you, Gertie. Do forgive me,’ Perkins said. ‘Become my wife and I will tell the world it was not you that opened the portholes. Do you understand?’

Oh dear! In a flash I saw a solution to all my problems. I was a traitor, a Judas, selling Perkins out for deliverance from these scandalous accusations. Allegations that were true. Yes, I did open the portholes, but I was determined to deny it, difficult as that was. This was not only for my own good, but for Merriberry who had been so supportive to me and would surely lose her job if the truth came out.

How many more lives would be lost if Merriberry left the medical profession? Also, I would not confess for my father’s sake. He did not deserve any more trouble in his life. And for my baby, who needed two parents. If I was prepared to surrender the man I loved for the sake of my child’s reputation, then so be it. Perkins had offered me this solution and I was seriously considering it, only because I suspected Manno’s baby grew inside me. The hole I dug for myself grew deeper and deeper.

*

The newspaper reporter was a stern looking man in his mid-thirties, all worsted suit, leather polish, and Brilliantine. He had a thick head of dark, glossy hair, and a mole with silver bristles on his jaw. He shook hands with father, Mr Hammersmith, and Perkins and half bowed towards me and the other ladies as an afterthought.

‘Thank you for seeing me. I’ll be out of your way as quickly as possible.’

Father indicated a chair at the dining table and as the reporter moved towards it, my father threw me a cautionary glance that said, think before you speak. I replied with a slight nod. He pointed to another chair and said, ‘After you,’ to me. A clever move, because it instantly made the sitting reporter slightly embarrassed for his manners. ‘Thank you, Father,’ I replied.