Every morning, while she was on ward duty, Sybil tried her hardest to smile as she wheeled the tea-trolley, but it was still only seven o’clock and she had had a hell of a night, with back pains and dashing to the lavatory almost every hour. The loaded trolley she was pushing weighed a ton and rattled loudly on its creaky wheels, warning all the slumbering patients that early-morning tea was on its way.

Though she tried her best to encourage Rosie to eat, as instructed by Sister Mann, who was on a mission to build Rosie up, Sybil simply hadn’t the right bedside manner. She hadn’t a clue how to coax Rosie to eat the mashed potatoes and swede that she herself gagged at, but a day didn’t pass without Sister Mann urging her to try harder.

‘It’s imperative we build up Rosie’s strength.’

‘We can’t force her to eat,’ Sybil remonstrated.

Edith gave her a hard look. ‘Have you heard of the word “persuasion”?’ she asked sarcastically.

‘I’m trying my best,’ Sybil answered irritably. ‘But she shows no interest at all in food.’

Giving up on Sybil, Sister Mann took on the challenge of monitoring Rosie’s daily intake, sitting by her patient’s bedside and gently urging her to take just another spoonful of semolina or tapioca pudding – which showed an admirable, caring side of Edith’s character – but sadly even that was wasted on Rosie, who regularly brought back up the meal she had tried so hard to swallow.

An hour later Sybil was on another tour of the wards, yet again with the noisy trolley, this time loaded up with yet more tea plus toast, a scraping of Mary Vale butter and Sister Mary Paul’s rhubarb jam bulked out with turnips. By the time she had completed the breakfast round, Sybil really needed a cup of tea herself, but, seeing Rosie sitting up in her bed, she seized the opportunity and quickly approached. Just as she was about to offer Rosie a second cup of tea, Sybil’s baby gave her a hefty kick in the ribs.

‘Ouch!’ she exclaimed.

‘Oh, dear, are you all right?’ Rosie asked nervously.

‘Active baby,’ Sybil explained.

Rosie pulled down the corners of her mouth. ‘Unfortunately, mine’s not active – occasionally it moves a bit, but compared to the other two it’s a weak, little scrap of a thing.’

Turning towards the open window through which the morning sun streamed, Rosie caught the fragrance of early roses combined with lily of the valley.

‘It’s beautiful out there,’ Rosie sighed wistfully. ‘Pity I can’t enjoy it.’

Sybil gave an inward sigh; never having been a chatterbox, she struggled with small talk about gardens and babies, but she had to stick with the banal if she were going to make any progress with Rosie.

‘I’m sure your children will be enjoying the warm weather?’ she said feebly.