For a moment, I wanted to run away, but his pleading tone brought out the pity in me. I could hold his hand for a moment. The sailor was held to the stretcher by two heavy straps over a blanket that covered all but his head. One strap pinned him across his chest, and the other over his thighs.

I knelt beside him. ‘Take it easy, sailor, they’ll soon fix you up.’ I eased the blanket back to take his hand in mine . . . there was no hand, just a bloodied stump at his wrist and a tight tourniquet. The shock caught me by surprise and I almost cried out. I fought to keep the horror and fear off my face, but the hardest part was to speak to him with a steady voice. I turned my head away, thought of our Arthur, then called on Sissy for help.

In a moment, I had regained control of my voice and was able to calm the young man. ‘This is one of the best hospitals in the country, sailor. They’ll take very good care of you, I promise.’ I talked to him, told him about my brother, but not that he had died.

The orderlies came for him at the same moment as my father appeared.

I tucked the blanket back under his arm and patted his shoulder. ‘Good luck, sailor,’ I called, my calm voice seeming to come from somebody else, my insides shaking like Mrs Cooper’s blancmange.

‘Thank you, nurse,’ the sailor called, his voice a little calmer now. ‘I’ll never forget you!’

In father’s car, I turned away from him and, peering out of the window as he drove us home, broke down. I wept for a few minutes, then dried my eyes, blew my nose and threw my shoulders back.

Father never spoke of the incident, yet I sensed he was quite aware of my emotions.

That evening at dinner, Mother got herself in a tizzy about everything, saying it just proved how much danger I’d be in on the high seas, but Father sternly reassured her.

‘She’ll be on a hospital ship. Nobody’s allowed to fire at hospital ships, ours or theirs. She’ll be safer than you are in this house, Mother,’ he said.

I was shocked by his sudden change of attitude. The hopes and dreams I’d held in my heart while gazing from the Dover cliff top were about to come to fruition. I would work on the greatest transatlantic passenger liner ever built, HMHS Britannic. To be honest, the ship had never actually traversed the Atlantic because our government acquired it before it had a chance. In consideration of my mother, I decided not to mention the vessel was sister ship to Titanic that sank only four years earlier.