She arrived at the hospital just as they were letting the group through to the ward which had been sectioned off. Her heart pounded. There were people there that she recognised, both walking and wounded, though she did not fully take in anyone in particular. Scouring all the faces, she desperately searched for familiar features, there where two faces she longed to see and one she dreaded.

The ward was now filling up and it was getting hard to move. Nurses uselessly tried to usher people around, all the pushing and shoving and the hustling combined with the bright hospital lights, the sound of people ordering other people to be calm and wait in line and the desolate cries of those that could not find their loved ones brought the memories of that most dreadful night crashing down on her. She'd lost them once, she wasn't going to loose them again. She forced her way through the hysterical crowd. They were here she could feel it. It was a mother's intuition. They were here, they had to be. This was her last hope; she had to find them here. What if they're not? Her mind betrayed her, no she thought if I don't find them here I'll have to go find them on some make shift morgue of an ice rink in Halifax. And if I don't find them there, I'll never find them.

She could not see them. Just as that morbid thought made home in the pit of her stomach, something caught her eye. There on the bed closest to the window, right at the very back of the ward on the side she was walking up, there was an abundance of bright red hair attached to a small, pale body. She fought even harder to get through.

Once she reached her daughter she took her hand and broke down crying. Crying at the relief and happiness in finding her child and also at the terror of seeing her so fragile. She just stood there, clutching her baby's hand, rubbing circles on the back, just as she had done when she was little.

She did not know how long she had been like that; it felt like hours but also just a few fleeting seconds. The next thing she knew a young nurse was stood next to her, one hand on her shoulder and one hand holding a clipboard and pen. Her feet where throbbing and the room was only occupied by small clusters of people gathered around a few of the beds, sure signs she had in fact been there a long time. The nurse gave her a reassuring smile and a small squeeze to the shoulder before moving her hand, swapping the clipboard over and poising the pen. "Are you a friend or relative?"

"Her mother." Mary chocked.

"May I ask a few questions?" the nurse said offering Mary a hankie from her pinafore pocket. Mary nodded weakly and gratefully took the hankie and dried her eyes. "Does she have a name?" well of course she does her head snapped.

"Theresa, Theresa Maloney." She sniffed, trying to regain her composure, she was not one to let other people see her emotions, in fact she only ever remembered crying in front of her parents, sister, best friend and Jim.

"How old is she?"

"Nine." The nurse went on to scrawl on the clipboard.

"Date and place of birth?"

"Belfast general hospital, 10th May 1901"

"Place of residence, if known, if not any contact details?"

"Flat A 'Bloomin' lovely' on 39th"

"Thank you. There should be a doctor present shortly to answer any questions you may have." and with a small nod of the head she was gone, leaving Mary with her thoughts and her unconscious daughter.

There was no clock in the ward and she was starting to wonder how long she'd been there and whether or not Connie was still ok looking after the other three children. A rush of cold hit her and sent shivers down her spine as she realised that she had not found Jim. Did he not find her? Her stomach churned, she felt sick and light headed. She had pined so much hope on finding them both here safe and well, perhaps a little worse for wear but alive. She had convinced herself he would come back to her. Maybe this is God punishing you for what you did to him, for betraying him she wished her head would shut up after all it was just a kiss. By now she was leaning on the wall panting heavily, trying to overcome the sudden tirade of emotions. But wait, you haven't checked that side of the ward yet.

All thoughts were pushed out as the small number of people standing in the room became an unruly rabble as a man in a doctor's coat came in. All of them talking over each other, desperate for answers. Mary looked down at her child, pale but peaceful, seemingly asleep but not rousing and she too joined the cacophony of voices. The doctor explained in the best way he could that all conscious patients had been moved out and that if you're relative was in this room then they where in a coma induced by hypothermia and that there was no way of telling when and if any of them would wake up. She could only take so much in and returned to Theresa's bedside where she remained until some of the nurses came in to tell everyone to go home. She kissed her daughter's cheek before she left and when she turned she saw through the window that it was pitch black outside.

Then, on her way out something, or rather someone on the opposite side of the room near the door caught her eye. There he was his mouth parted slightly, oh how she wanted to kiss that mouth. Slight stubble was already beginning to form on his well chiselled chin. She ran to him, put her arms around him, buried her face into his neck, closed her eyes and breathed him in. He was intoxicating.