‘We will, Marjie. Don’t mind me and my doubts. Our training will kick in and we’ll be fine.’ She didn’t feel as confident as she sounded, though. Her heart was beating wildly at the realization that this was it. No further distractions, as the training had been; and nothing more to undertake, to prove that they were able. Just the job ahead of them, which would take them into the unknown, and then so much would be expected of them.

Marjie’s head came to rest on Sibbie’s shoulder. ‘I wish we could wake up and it would all be a dream.’ She’d hardly said this before a loud wailing got them both jumping off the sofa.

‘Oh, Sibbie, an air raid!’

The sound of a distant droning noise shot terror through Sibbie. Marjie’s eyes showed that her fears matched Sibbie’s, and this spurred her to action. ‘We have to dress very, very quickly and find shelter. Hurry, Marjie.’

It was the quickest either of them had ever dressed in their lives. Within minutes they were running down the stairs from their second-floor flat, with Sibbie shouting, ‘The Underground. Let’s make for there. We passed Charing Cross Road Underground station when we were being brought here, and it was only a little way down the road. I’ve read that Londoners make for stations in an air raid.’

As they ran along the road, the shadows of the aircraft darkened the pavement, and the noise filled Sibbie’s head to the exclusion of everything else, leaving her with a desperation she’d never felt before.

‘Come on, luv, get yourselves in ’ere.’

The woman standing at the entrance to the Underground sounded as calm as if they were running from a rainstorm, instead of for their lives, and this reassured Sibbie.

‘That’s right, run along down them steps there. There’s a few of them, but you’ll be safe down there. Besides, they haven’t dropped their bombs yet, so we should miss this lot.’

‘Thank you.’ Her own voice sounded alien to Sibbie. Feeling Marjie’s hand in hers gave her comfort as they skipped down the steps together.

When they reached the bottom, women in Salvation Army uniforms greeted them. ‘We’ve some hot tea on the go, girls. Find somewhere to sit; we don’t reckon it’ll be long before the all-clear.’

All the benches were taken, but they found an empty space next to a wall and sat down. With the cold of the concrete slabs filtering through their clothing, they both caught their breath and then giggled with the relief that the feeling of being safe gave them.

A child a little way away from them began to cry. Sibbie called her over. ‘What’s your name?’

The little girl tearfully told her that she was called Susan.