There was a flurry of hugs and kisses and goodbyes. When it was Grace’s turn she hugged Anna fiercely.

‘You will be all right, won’t you?’ she mumbled into her friend’s ear.

‘Of course.’

‘And you’ll keep in touch?’

‘I promise.’

‘Oh, do stop being wet, Duffield!’ Miriam snapped. ‘Trust you to get all sentimental about everything. You’ll be seeing her soon, anyway. Saunders’ wedding?’ she said, as Anna looked blank. ‘You are still coming, aren’t you?’

‘You can’t miss the social event of the year,’ Dulcie put in dryly.

‘If I get an invitation,’ Anna said.

‘Oh, you’ll get one,’ Dulcie predicted. ‘Saunders wouldn’t want anyone to miss the chance of seeing her walking up the aisle in white.’

‘Whereas your wedding will be such a quiet, understated affair,’ Sadie said.

‘If it ever happens,’ Miriam added acidly.

Sadie rolled her eyes at Anna. ‘Here we go again!’

As they left, Grace suddenly turned back to her. ‘I meant what I said about keeping in touch?’

‘So did I.’

‘Do you promise? And if there’s ever anything you want, or you need to talk to someone …’ There was a message in her eyes that Anna didn’t quite understand.

‘I’ll remember,’ she said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The following week there was an outing to the picture house for some of the men on Monaghan ward, and Dulcie was invited.

The sisters on the military wards often received free tickets to the pictures or the theatre or the music hall, from people keen to show their appreciation for the work they were doing with brave wounded soldiers. Usually they would hand the tickets over to one of the junior nurses and ask them to organise the outing.

This time the task had fallen to Miriam Trott, which was why Dulcie was so surprised to be included. As far as she was concerned, there was no love lost between her and Miriam. But the mystery was solved when Miriam explained that the nurse who was supposed to come with her, Hilda Wharton, had been confined to the sick bay with a bad cold.

‘And everyone else was busy, so it was either you or Nurse Hanley,’ she said.

Dulcie was thankful for a free night out, even if she did have to put up with Miriam Trott all evening. At least it was a chance to dress up. She chose her outfit carefully, picking out her favourite blue dress. Her mother had made it for her, copying the pattern carefully from a dress Dulcie had seen in Selfridge’s.

It was a good match, she thought. Anyone seeing it would probably think it was the real thing.

She longed for the day she could buy anything she wanted. Being able to shop for a dress up west, having assistants fussing around you, commissionaires opening the door as you emerged with your purchases, that was as much a part of the pleasure for her as actually wearing an expensive dress.

But one day, she told herself. One day she would have an account in Selfridge’s and then she would be able to buy whatever she liked and sign her name with a flourish.