Virginia Moffatt

The Wave


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rel="nofollow" href="#ud45b2e7b-4f65-5b51-8768-bfd3d954833d">Lauds

      

       Poppy

      

       Yan

      

       Margaret

      

       James

      

       Nikki

      

       Harry

      

       Shelley

      

       Prime

      

       Poppy

      

       Yan

      

       Margaret

      

       James

      

       Nikki

      

       Harry

      

       Shelley

      

       Prayers for the Dead

      

       Poppy

      

       Yan

      

       Margaret

      

       James

      

       Nikki

      

       Harry

      

       Shelley

      

       Acknowledgements

      

       About the Author

      

       About the Publisher

       The Divine Office (Liturgy of the Hours)

       ‘the recitation of certain Christian prayers at fixed hours according to the discipline of the Roman Catholic Church’ before the second Vatican Council (1962-1965)

       Vespers Evening Prayer ‘At the lighting of the lamps’ 6.00 p.m.

       Compline Night Prayer before retiring 9.00 p.m.

       Matins During the night or Midnight

       Lauds Dawn Prayer 3.00 a.m.

       Prime Early Morning Prayer 6.00 a.m. (the first hour)

       30 August 12.00 p.m.

       Twitter

      MattRedwood@VolcanowatchersUK 21 s They were wrong about the Cumbre Vieja volcano on La Palma. If you’re in Cornwall don’t even stop to pack. Get out NOW.

       BBC Breaking 12.20 p.m.

      … Downing Street confirms the Prime Minister has cut her bank holiday weekend short and will be making a statement at 12.30 p.m.

       Facebook

       Poppy Armstrong

       30 August 12.45 p.m.

      I am going to die tomorrow.

      Sorry to be so melodramatic, but if you’ve seen the news, you’ll know it is true. It took a while to sink in, didn’t it? The idea that, only yesterday the geologists at Las Palma were so sure the seismic activity they were observing was nothing unusual they didn’t even raise an alert. The revelation that if it hadn’t been for a bored intern noticing that the tiny tremors were building to a huge unexpected one, we’d have been carrying on with life as normal; the knowledge that it took so long for that intern to persuade her superiors that they were about to witness a massive volcanic collapse, there are now less than twelve hours before half the mountain falls into the sea, raising megatsunamis that will hit the American, UK, Irish and African coasts by eight o’clock tomorrow morning. So that I and thousands of others will be killed by the time most of you are getting out of bed. The how, when and why of our deaths making headlines around the globe, before it has even happened.

      I’m still trying to think of it as a blessing of sorts. After all, it’s more than most people get – victims of car crashes receive no such warning; the terminally ill can’t know the exact point their disease will overwhelm them; the elderly face a slow decline. I’m lucky, really, to know the precise instant my life will end. It provides me with this one, tiny consolation: knowing how much time I have left means I get to plan how to spend each moment. And I mean to make the most of every last second.

      Because … for me, the information has come too late. The authorities have managed to evacuate some hospitals, and it seems that local dignitaries can’t be allowed to drown, but they say there is no time to execute a rescue plan for the rest of us. We will have to make our own way, by road, rail or boat: three million people attempting to leave this narrow peninsula simultaneously. Already, it is a less than edifying sight. The roads are too narrow, the station too crowded, the boats available in insufficient numbers. I do not want to spend my last hours like this, frantic, rushing, out of control, in a race I have no chance of winning.

      Perhaps I am wrong, but I have weighed the odds, and finding them