The Lost Sister by Kathleen McGurl (i can read book club .TXT) 📕

water drain out of her mouth, checking her pulse. Lily stuffed her fist into her mouth to stop herself from screaming at him to save her, save Emma, bring Emma back to her.

‘It’s no good,’ said one of the men, and Lily groaned in anguish. But the doctor – bless the doctor – kept on working on Emma, refusing to give up hope while Lily crouched beside him, holding her sister’s hand, rubbing it, wishing there was some way she could push life back into her.

At last the doctor sat back on his heels and shook his head. Another man passed him a shirt, and the doctor placed it gently over Emma’s face.

‘Nooo! She can’t be … she’s my sister!’ Lily threw herself down by Emma’s side and held her cold, wet body, willing her sister to wake up, push the shirt off her face and sit up smiling.

‘Lily, come here, there’s nothing you can do for her.’ Warm arms went around her and lifted Lily up onto a seat. To her surprise Lily realised it was Frank Perkins – the red-haired crewman they’d befriended. She let herself be held by him as she sobbed, her head against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

‘There’s another woman – there, look!’ The cry went up and at once two crewmen grabbed the oars and began rowing hard. Very soon it was Violet Jessop who was being hauled into the lifeboat. She cried out in sorrow when she saw Emma’s body lying in the keel and then took a seat beside Lily.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, putting a wet arm about Lily’s shoulder.

Lily turned to thank her, and then saw Violet’s head was bleeding. There was also a deep gash on her leg. ‘Oh, Violet, you are hurt!’

‘Am I?’ Violet asked, and Lily noted the uneven dilation of her pupils. Violet was concussed. Lily switched into her nurse persona, thanked Frank for the comfort, and set about patching Violet’s leg and head as best she could. Working alongside the doctor she then checked the rest of the boat’s occupants, trying to keep her eyes averted from the body of her sister that lay in the bottom. Stay busy, Lils, she told herself. Keep busy, keep working, don’t think about it.

By the time she’d done what she could for the injured, she realised the crew had rowed to land – they were approaching a small harbour on an island. Some of the other lifeboats from the Britannic were there too, discharging their passengers onto the quayside. Some people were being carried off on makeshift stretchers.

Soon it was their turn, and crew from the other boats together with locals from the island were helping them onshore. Two Greek men carried Emma’s body, taking it into a nearby building where she was laid on the floor alongside a few other bodies. A woman brought a blanket and covered her up, crossing herself and murmuring a few words in her own language as she did so. Seeing Lily standing there, sobbing, the woman approached her and put a gentle hand on her arm. She said something – Lily had no idea what – but then led her back outside, a short way up a lane towards a village and then into a small whitewashed cottage – her home, Lily assumed. There, the woman showed Lily to a tiny bedroom, and indicated that she should take off her still-wet clothes.

She did so, feeling overwhelmed by the kindness of these strangers, and numbed by what had happened. It did not seem real. It could not be real. She found herself half-believing that Emma would be in the next room, and in a moment they would meet in the Greek woman’s kitchen and talk about their experiences.

Once undressed, she slipped on a loose cotton nightgown that hung on the back of the door, and then, almost unaware of what she was doing, she instinctively climbed into the little bed, pulled the covers up over her and turned to face the wall. How had this happened? How could it be that she’d lost both her sisters, at sea? And how could Emma have died while saving her? She realised that she owed her sister her life. Emma had not let go of her, the whole time they were in the water. Closing her eyes, she imagined she could still feel her sister’s arm, strong and comforting, across her chest.

Lily woke some hours later, to the sound of voices in the next room. English voices. She got out of the little bed and found her clothes, dried and neatly folded, awaiting her on a chair. Quickly dressing, she opened the door to find Frank Perkins talking to her hostess, with another man acting as interpreter.

‘Ah, here she is. Well rested, I hope?’ Frank said, and the understanding and sympathy in his eyes made her want to cry again. But she held back. Now was not the time.

‘Yes, thank you. This lady has been very kind.’ She smiled at the Greek woman, who smiled back, dipping her head in acknowledgement.

‘Well, I have good news. There is a British ship coming to pick us up. It will be here later today.’

‘I don’t even know where we are,’ Lily admitted.

‘We’re on the Greek island of Kea. While we wait for HMS Foxhound, your nursing skills could be put to good use, if you are feeling up to it?’

‘Yes, of course. I must do my bit.’ She thanked her hostess once more, and followed Frank out of the cottage. Keep busy, Lils. Keep working.

Back at the quayside, people were bustling about, tending to a number of injured crewmen. Some were seriously wounded – missing legs or arms, clearly they had come off worse in the battle with the propellers. Some had minor injuries, perhaps from falling into lifeboats. Violet was there, tending to a man with a terrible injury to his leg – his foot was gone. Lily felt guilty for sleeping while Violet,