The hair on her head was a better story, for in spite of most of it being burnt off during the fire and the rest shaved off on her admission to hospital, it was starting to come through again. She knew it was in patches, for she could feel it with her good hand, but apparently there was a chance it would grow back completely. As yet she had no idea of its color, but she was expecting it to be gray, or possibly white, and as for the texture . . . She’d have to wait and see.

Her left hand was still encased in an enormous dressing, and everything down that side of her body to her hip was a raging, stinging river of pain in spite of the drugs. It was so intense at times that she longed to tear herself apart with knives to try and alleviate the agony and itching.

Right now, she was raised up against pillows in her hospital bed, tilted slightly to the right to ease the pressure on her injured left side and still attached to the intravenous antibiotics. Usually at this time of day the physio came to inflict her own brand of torture, but there was another sort on the agenda today. She wasn’t ready for it, and knew she probably never would be, but she was unable to summon the words to argue against it. Easier to go along with what they wanted and not make a fuss.

She looked up as Ruth, the senior nurse, came around the privacy screen, her fair corkscrew curls pulled back into a band, and her smooth, round face radiating health and perfection. Marcy didn’t resent her for that, only envied her. After all, it wasn’t going to help her patients if she covered her looks with a mask or drew on a clownish expression to disguise them. Marcy suspected she would, if asked, for she’d come to believe that there wasn’t much this bossy mother of three wouldn’t do to help those in her care.

Of the many members of the burns team, Ruth was the one Marcy had developed the greatest attachment to, with the exception of her roguishly witty consultant, Rohan Laghari, whom she saw most days. He had no idea that she looked forward to his visits and held on to his every word, for she didn’t engage with him much more than she did with the others. She didn’t mean to be rude; she just couldn’t bring herself up from the depths where she languished into the full light of comings and goings around her. Not even the psychologist was having much luck in reaching her, and if the truth were told, Marcy wished he’d stop trying.

“Are you sure about this?” Ruth asked, holding the mirror against her chest with the back of it facing Marcy. “We always prefer to do it with the full team present . . .”