Free Where the Heart Lies by Ellie Dean Page B

summer delights of hop-picking in Kent, and the dreams they’d shared in those golden days. She spoke of her love and her sorrow, and repeated her promise to look after Franny’s baby.
    She remained with her sister all through the crumps and bangs and the rattle of gunfire, scarcely aware of anything until the all-clear went for the second time that night. In the hush of the aftermath of battle she rose from the chair, stepped through the screens and approached the sister on duty.
    ‘I’d like to lay her out,’ she said. ‘It’s all I can do for her now, and I want her to look at peace when our parents come. Has anyone managed to get hold of them yet?’
    The ward sister shook her head. ‘One of my nurses has been trying to get through all night, but the lines are still down. I’m sorry.’ She gave Julie a sympathetic smile and squeezed her hand. ‘You’ll find fresh linen and everything you’ll need in the room next door.’
    Julie’s tears slowly rolled down her face as she lovingly washed her sister’s pale, lifeless body.Gently drying her with a soft towel, she then reached for the hairbrush and carefully teased out the tangles and arranged the shining curls so they framed her sweet face and drifted over her shoulders.
    Franny looked more fairy-like than ever in the endless sleep that had so cruelly snatched her from those who loved her, but as Julie kissed her forehead and slowly drew the sheet over her, she knew she would always remember her this way – in peaceful, sleeping repose where the cruelties and struggles of life could never trouble her again.
    She pulled the screens round the bed for the last time, thanked the sister and left the ward. She didn’t want to see them wheel her down to the morgue – didn’t want to think of her down there alone in the cold basement where she would remain until her parents came to see her in the Chapel of Rest.
    The special ward for premature and sick babies was at the end of the corridor. Although it was now four in the morning, Julie pushed through the door. The room was hushed and dimly lit, with a line of small cots down the middle and two nurses and a VAD on duty.
    The senior nurse must have been warned that Julie might come, for she left her desk and greeted her with a warm, understanding smile. ‘William has been fed and doesn’t seem to have suffered too much from the trauma of such a rapid delivery,’ she said quietly. ‘But he will have to stay with us for a few weeks as he’s still very small.’
    Julie followed the nurse to the cot and looked down at the tiny scrap lying there, unaware of the drama that had surrounded not only his conception, but his arrival. ‘May I hold him?’ she asked, her voice gruff with tears.
    At the other woman’s nod, Julie lifted William from the cot and rested her cheek on his tiny head, breathing in the sweetness of him. He was an intrinsic part of Franny, her final and most precious gift for the man she loved, and Julie was almost overwhelmed by the sense of responsibility for this tiny scrap.
    William stretched and squirmed and pulled a face, his rosebud lips working as if he was dreaming of milk.
    ‘We’ll look after you,’ she whispered. ‘Me and Mum and Dad will keep you safe. I promise.’ She kissed the peach-like cheek and held him close, knowing that no matter how hard it became, or however long it took, she and her family would protect and love him for Franny until Bill came home.

Chapter Four
    JULIE CYCLED STRAIGHT to Mrs Bessell’s after leaving the hospital. The sweet woman was clearly devastated by Julie’s news, and they tearfully consoled one another before Julie plucked up the courage to go up to Franny’s room.
    Mrs Bessell must have made the bed and tidied up during her long, sleepless night, but Julie felt a sense of abandonment in the room as she slowly gathered up the family photographs, the few pieces of clothing and the blanket their mother had knitted so lovingly. She wept as she