Once she had handed over her job to Staff Nurse Mann, Ada was astonished at how quickly she took to not working at all. Waking up and lying in bed was sheer bliss; not having to rush around washing and starching her uniform was an unexpected relief; going for long peaceful morning walks on the lower fells or in the lovely woods close by was a strangely new and relaxing experience. Ada realized that without even knowing it she had been pushing herself hard during her last few weeks at work, worrying about leaving her patients and handing over to her replacement, and now it was all over she acknowledged that it had been quite stressful. Free to do whatever she chose, Ada slept a lot or sat in the garden on warm days with her hands over her growing tummy. It was a real luxury to have the time to feel her baby grow, and when a little foot or fist kicked her, Ada laughed out loud in delight. She was so excited about having her first child; she dreamily wondered if it would have Jamie’s beautiful gold-flecked hazel eyes or his full, smiling mouth, or her rich brunette hair and big blue eyes. The biggest question of all was what sex would their baby be? Jamie had written saying he really didn’t care, just so long as it was healthy, and Ada didn’t care either, except that she knew she ultimately really wanted both a girl and a boy, but she didn’t mind which came first.

Ada enjoyed cooking for herself too, good nourishing food like broths and soup that didn’t bloat her or cause indigestion. Sister Mary Paul regularly dropped by with a warm crusty loaf of bread and a bit of tangy Lancashire cheese. Though she always commenced her visits by breathlessly declaring that she couldn’t stop, she could always be persuaded to sit and have a cup of tea in front of the old cooking range, where (after settling herself in the rocking chair) she brought Ada up to date on all the latest news in the Home.

‘The little lass, Maureen, she gave birth last night, and the girl whose little boy you delivered last week, she’s raring at the bit to go home.’

‘It’s a bit early,’ Ada murmured.

‘Matron said the same thing,’ Sister Mary Paul told her. ‘Way too early, but Sister Mann seemed to think otherwise. She told the lass she could leave when she felt up to it, which I don’t think best pleased Matron.’

Ada’s brow creased. ‘I’d never go against Matron’s opinion,’ she responded. ‘She’s an expert on post-natal complications, plus we have no idea what living conditions our patients are returning home to. We need to be sure that they’re fit and strong when they leave Mary Vale, ready to face whatever’s around the corner.’