London, 5 July 1939

   Waterloo Station was teeming with travellers hurrying to get a seat on the waiting train. As they flowed around her, Gail Richmond’s thoughts were miles away. The next few days were likely to be the most important of her life, and trepidation made her heartbeat quicken.

   Without being aware of her actions, she was scanning each face that passed her by, hoping Emma would reach the station in time, but the seconds were ticking away. It was going to be close. Then her eyes came into focus as a voice called her name.

   The next moment, she spotted a familiar figure clad in daring black slacks emerging from the crowd, and she waved. ‘Emma, you made it!’

   She was enveloped in a warm embrace. ‘Only just! But that was some race across London.’

   ‘Goodness me, you’re breathing as though you’ve run all the way.’

   ‘I have. But I couldn’t let you go back to Westcott and beard the monster in his den without giving you a proper send-off.’

   ‘The monster?’ Gail laughed and then grimaced. ‘I won’t be able to look him in the eye now without seeing an ogre.’

   ‘Exactly. And you will therefore relax and smile when you tackle him.’

   ‘Hmmm. Perhaps. But how on earth did you get away? Sister’s a strict disciplinarian, isn’t she?’

   ‘I have friends covering for me. But…’ Emma grew serious, and leaned back to examine Gail’s face, feature by feature. ‘I can see you’re nervous. Be honest with me. Are you ready to face that terrible man?’

   ‘As ready as I shall ever be,’ she said with an air of confidence, but her stomach tingled unpleasantly.

   The announcer’s distorted voice boomed out over the hiss of waiting steam engines and chattering voices, adding to the chaotic clamour of sound that reverberated beneath the arched glass roof. She glanced up at the clock. ‘The train departs in a minute or two. I shall have to go soon. Do you have any last words of advice?’

   ‘Just be true to yourself.’ Her friend hugged her tight and murmured into her ear. ‘I will be with you in spirit. And remember, if things get out of hand, come to me.’

   ‘You are a lifesaver, Emma Blakeney. I hope it won’t come to that.’

   ‘After everything you’ve been through this year, I’m sure it won’t. You’ll manage. Now, do you still have my notes?’

   Gail patted her handbag. ‘All safe. And I’ve worked out a strategy.’

   ‘That’s so like you…’

   ‘All aboard!’ A guard was striding down the platform, calling the last passengers onto the train. Unable to stay any longer, Gail climbed in, slammed the door and turned to wave through the window as the train pulled away from the platform with a gush of steam and a mighty roar.

   She stayed where she was, watching the smoke-stained Victorian railway architecture give way to views of Big Ben across the Thames, and then the massive edifice of Battersea Power Station. Behind her, several young schoolgirls were giggling, whispering together and weaving cheeky, fanciful stories about her. Why was such a well-dressed young woman standing as though turned to stone? But their whispers did not penetrate her mind.

   Gail was, in fact, making a difficult mental transition from the capable, professional woman she was to the innocent young daughter her family was expecting.

   Slowly, oh so slowly, she partitioned into the back of her mind the challenges that lay ahead and the events that had so profoundly changed her life.

   The tension eased out of her shoulders and anticipation took its place. She was going home after almost a year away.

   Finally, she sat down and watched the grimy terraced houses of inner London give way to more spacious dwellings and then to open countryside.

   God! She was looking forward to seeing her mother and sister, and tasting good old English normality after the traumas of the past year.

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