The Country Nurse (Truscott Family Sagas #3)

Prologue

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Tilly lay in the bottom of a crater, face down in the sand.

She shifted slightly, trying to free her airways, and immediately felt a searing pain shoot through her shoulder.

She rolled over onto her back and rested in that position for a while until she regained her strength.

She looked above her. The sides of the crater swept away from her, the rim a blurred line between earth and sky.

She was alive at least — the pain told her so.

A grim, unnatural silence surged over her.

The brilliant blue sky seemed to have been painted on.

It didn’t belong there. Not a sound. She saw a plane high above her, but couldn’t hear its engines.

The silence was uncanny. There was a humming in her ears.

She’d gone deaf. The last thing she had seen before everything went black had been the waves of scorched earth stretching into the distance.

An ocean of sand, so unlike her country home back in England.

She reached out for home and the safe hedgerows of Micklewell, hundreds of miles away.

Now she was drowning in sand. Where was she?

A few moments ago, she had been at the wheel of an ambulance heading out to rescue soldiers injured in a bombardment.

Now, it was she who needed the ambulance.

She took a deep breath and used her good arm to push herself upright.

Her shoulder was dislocated; she could hardly move her left arm.

She winced at the thought of having to force it back into place by herself.

The procedure was difficult enough being performed by a second party.

By herself? Well, she didn’t want to think about it.

Was she alone? She was so distracted by the pain that she didn’t think about her partner and armed escort.

She scanned the hole she was in. No sign of Fliss or Bert.

She tried to stand and bit down hard on the pain.

The sides of the crater were steep, but she had to try to scramble out.

The sand slipped away from her feet and it was slow progress, but she eventually reached the top.

She could see the ambulance on its side, a tangle of metal, one wheel still spinning from the impact.

She hobbled around, frantically searching for Fliss. She was beginning to fear the worst.

A sparkle of reflected light caught Tilly’s eye.

It was the bejewelled bracelet of the watch that Fliss insisted on wearing, despite its impracticality.

‘My God, Fliss!’ Tilly gasped, her breath catching in her throat.

She fought back the tears and tried to remain practical and detached.

But this was her friend. The tears came anyway and rolled down her cheeks.

She hurried towards the still body that lay there partially covered in sand.

She knelt down, cleared Fliss’s nose and mouth, and placed her own face close to her friend’s.

She could feel her shallow breath. She was alive!

Thank God. Blood was seeping from a wound on her forehead and she was barely conscious, but she was alive!

‘Fliss, Fliss. It’s OK. I’m here. You’re going to be OK,’ Tilly said, her breath coming in fits and starts.

She was conscious of her own heart thumping against her ribcage. She felt Fliss’s heartbeat. It was racing. She lifted her friend’s eyelids. Her eyes were rolled back in her head. Tilly carried on talking to her, reassuring her friend she was there.

‘I’m not leaving you, Fliss. You’re going to pull through this. Don’t you give up on me now. Don’t you dare!’