‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Dulcie sipped her tea. ‘Once is more than enough.’

He smiled slightly at that.

Encouraged, she said, ‘What were you dreaming about?’

His face took on a closed look. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘You mentioned a name … Christopher?’ She saw him flinch. ‘Who is that?’

‘I told you, I don’t remember anything about it.’ He turned his face away from her. ‘I want to sleep now, if you don’t mind?’

‘But your tea—’

‘I don’t want it.’

‘I’ll leave it here, just in case you change your mind.’ Dulcie stood up. ‘It might help to talk about it, you know,’ she said. Sam said nothing. ‘Dr Logan reckons—’

‘Dr Logan! I might have known you’d listen to him.’

‘Dr Logan says it’s harmful to shut difficult memories away. He thinks we should get them out in the open, talk about them. It can’t do any harm to try, can it?’ she said. ‘And you never know, it might help.’

Sam opened his eyes, and Dulcie was shocked by the depth of anguish and despair she saw in them.

‘You wouldn’t want to hear what I’ve got to say, Nurse. Believe me,’ he said hoarsely.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Anna’s hands shook as she took out the pins from her hair and let it fall about her face. Outside, the clock was striking midnight, hailing in the year 1918. She could hear the shouts and laughter of revellers spilling out of the Angel and Crown. From the sound of it, the party seemed to be continuing on the street.

Anna sat still, listening for Edward’s voice. When she had left him there an hour ago, he had been sinking pints at the bar with Mr Hudson and Mr Wheeler.

She hadn’t expected them to spend all night in the pub, but Mr Hudson and the other men insisted on buying Edward one drink after another.

‘It ain’t often you have a drink with a war hero, is it?’ Mr Hudson kept saying. ‘You enjoy it, boy. After all, you’ve earned it.’

Anna had sat nursing her port and lemon for as long as she could. She had never liked drinking, and the heat and noise of the pub, with its stench of beer, stale sweat and cigarette smoke, was beginning to make her head ache.

But when she had suggested that they should go home, the men wouldn’t hear of it.

‘It ain’t even midnight yet!’ Mr Wheeler said. ‘Let the lad see in the New Year!’

‘She just wants to show you who’s boss,’ Mr Hudson agreed. ‘Don’t fall for it, Edward lad, or you’ll be under the thumb forever!’

‘Leave the girl alone, it’s her wedding night.’ Mrs Hudson nudged Anna. She had been downing gins all night, matching her husband drink for drink, and now she was red-faced and slurring her words. ‘I expect you’ll be wanting to get him on his own, eh? Can’t say I blame you, good-looking man like him!’

She couldn’t be more wrong, Anna thought as she brushed her hair over her shoulders. The thought of the wedding night and what was to come terrified her.