One of those poppies on Remembrance Sunday will be for me. I wonder if the Doctor and Fitz will ever find my name on some memorial or other. Or Mum and Dad.

No, they won't put my name anywhere. I don't belong here. I'm no one. Suddenly, panic stabbed at her. I shouldn't be here, she thought. This is all wrong. I can't die in World War Two, it's stupid.