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It wasn’t pleasant to be sitting on a cold concrete floor, and the subway was stuffy, too hot and smelly.

And as for the noise! But that was to be expected with hundreds of people packed into a limited space.

Yet Mary was glad she wasn’t alone, indeed it didn’t seem possible they’d only met a few hours earlier.

As they pointed out amusing things going on around them to one another, or overheard snippets of conversations and arguments, Mary laughingly said it was like watching a comedy in a theatre.

‘You’re right,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘Here we all are, a cross-section of human life, hiding from something that might kill us, and yet no one is distraught.’

‘It’s making me feel brave enough to say I will come with you tomorrow,’ Mary said impulsively.

‘Oh goody goody,’ Elizabeth clapped her hands. ‘That’s just made the evening.’

Suddenly there was a loud thump from above them.

Everyone on the crowded platform looked up and the thump was quickly followed by a loud explosion, and a whistling noise that seemed to be coming right through the roof of the Tube, burrowing its way down to them on the platform.

People screamed and Elizabeth clasped her arms around Mary as most of the lights flickered and went out.

Something was raining down on them. Not water, heavier, damp and rough.

‘It’s earth!’ a male voice yelled close by. ‘The bomb has come right through the road. We’re going to be buried alive.’

Elizabeth pulled up their handbags, slung Mary’s round her neck and put her own big bag over Mary’s face before tightening her arms around her.

‘We’ll be OK,’ she said in a voice that didn’t sound like hers.

‘The bag is to protect our faces, so don’t try to move it.

But they will rescue us. I’m so glad I’m with you. ’

All at once soil and rubble came down on them, thick and heavy. Elizabeth gave a shout of pain, and at the same time Mary felt a blow to her head. Then it all went dark.

‘Elizabeth Manning?’

Mary heard the female voice as if it was at the end of a long tunnel. She tried to speak but it seemed something was in her mouth.

‘Let me clean your eyes and mouth,’ the voice said, this time much closer, and she felt something soft and wet against her eyes. ‘You’ve had an awful time but it’s over now.’

Finally Mary was able to open her eyes to see a nurse in her starched cap and apron, but she still couldn’t speak because the nurse was delving inside her mouth and extracting debris.

‘You were lucky to survive,’ she went on.

‘You have a nasty blow on your head, but as I understand it you were protected by your friend. The explosion drove down from the road into the ticket office and weakened the concrete and steel casing of the Tube. It really is a miracle that the rescue workers were able to dig most of you out alive.’

As the nurse picked debris out of her mouth Mary gagged, then, when she lifted her up a little so she could spit out the remainder of the soil, she winced.

‘Well, Elizabeth. You’ve had quite a few stitches in your head,’ the nurse said as an explanation. ‘Now let me get you some water so you can wash the remainder of the dirt out of your mouth. I’ll only be gone for a moment or two.’

Mary was not only sore all over, she was also totally confused to find herself in a hospital bed, without knowing how she got there. And why did the nurse think she was Elizabeth?

Lifting her head gingerly, she saw she was in a ward with about ten other women, but the lights were so dim she couldn’t see if Elizabeth was among them. She supposed she must be in Charing Cross Hospital, and she was wearing a hospital gown. She wished she could remember what had happened.

The nurse reappeared with a glass of water and a kidney dish.

‘Swill your mouth round, dear, it must be horrible. Seemed your handbag saved you, we were told it was shielding your face. We’ve got that in a safe place for you.

Your dress was ruined, but we can find you something else to wear when you leave.

We found a card in your bag that said you were staying at the Charing Cross Hotel.

Someone rang there to tell them you were safe, and to hold on to your things until you can get them.

We also saw the train ticket to Ireland.

I’m sure they’ll change it for you when you are ready. ’

Mary rinsed her mouth out as she’d been told, then slumped back on the pillow. ‘Was my friend brought in with me?’ she managed to get out with some difficulty because her throat was terribly sore. As the nurse thought she was Elizabeth she thought for now it was best to ask about Mary.

‘I will get one of the wardens to come and talk to you. We have many injured here, though some were given first aid on a train, before being brought up on stretchers. The rescue workers were very brave, they were advised to stop digging people out as the roof was unsafe, but they carried on regardless of the heat and danger. They say they got the last ones out by midnight. Surprisingly, the death count is very low. But you go back to sleep now, it’s two in the morning. ’

‘If someone knows about Mary will they come and wake me to let me know?’

‘I’ll do my best, but you rest now.’

Mary felt they must have given her some strong medicine, for she did feel very sleepy.

She touched the dressing on the back of her head and wondered how bad it was and if they’d had to shave her hair away.

But even as these thoughts came to her, she felt guilty at not putting the nurse right about her name. What if Elizabeth was dead?

She woke to see weak light coming in through the criss-cross taping on the windows, and a sister with a pleated starched cap coming down the ward, looking at the names on the end of the beds.

‘Are you looking for me?’ Mary whispered to the sister. ‘Have you found my friend?’

She came right up to the side of the bed.

‘Yes, Miss Manning, but it’s bad news, I’m afraid.

Mary Price died in the Tube. You owe your life to her, I’m told.

She had lain on top of you and took the full force of the rubble.

The warden found her little shoulder bag with her identity card.

She had it around her neck for safety. Do you know her next of kin so we can contact them? ’

‘She hasn’t got any.’ Tears poured down her face as she said it.

‘We found a telephone number for the people she worked for,’ the sister said. ‘I’m going to ring them a little later. It’s too early yet. I’m sorry I had to bring you such bad news. Can I get you a cup of tea?’

After the sister had gone, Mary had to close her eyes to shut out the gravity of what she had done, or perhaps not done. She wasn’t sure which it was. She was to be Elizabeth Manning now. Sad, unloved Mary was gone; now, with a new identity, she could take on what Elizabeth had intended to do.

Could she really do that? Was she brave enough?