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‘Oh my God, Maggie, are you okay?’ Gerry’s grip on her arm was hard and fierce, and Meg felt real fear roll off her friend.
‘I stared at his plane and prayed he didn’t drop another on top of us. It was so close the ground quaked—or it might have been me shaking in my boots.’
Mary made a sound of disgust. ‘You were in the thick of it with an actual bomb and meanwhile our Eva carried on like a pork chop—again. Do you think she should stay here? What if the bombing gets more accurate and we have to deal with casualties? She’d be squawking and useless.’
Soon they would have to tell Eva that she was being sent south. Meg doubted any of the staff would see her departure as a negative, especially after tonight’s repeat performance. ‘So far, the bombs have landed either in the sea or in the mountains outside of town. The pilots had to have seen the town lying open and clear under the moonlight, so—’
Pam leaned forward, nodding. ‘Your idea makes a weird kind of sense you know. Three out of four nights with disturbed sleep hasn’t done me any favours, I can tell you.’
‘Did you offer everyone tea again?’
Gerry jumped in. ‘Hot cocoa, but most people just wanted to go to bed. Do you want—’
‘No thanks. I’m going to crawl into bed and beg Morpheus to clobber me. Night, girls.’ Kicking off her shoes, Meg turned off the light then made short work of removing her uniform and dropping it at the end of the bunk. Why bother folding it when she’d have to work hard to remove dirt and grass stains tomorrow?
A rustling of bedclothes and Mary’s soft sniffs, always a prelude to her falling asleep, sent Meg hurrying into her bed. Hoping for sleep, she burrowed under her blankets and curled up on her side. Tomorrow, Doc might decide to send her home and Meg, for all the fright of tonight, didn’t want to leave. Not yet.
