When they reached Smart’s Picture House, Miriam made them wait in the foyer while she went off to the box office to sort out the tickets.

‘I wish people wouldn’t keep looking at us,’ Private Hobbs muttered.

Dulcie gazed around. She hadn’t noticed it before but they were drawing quite a lot of attention in their hospital uniforms. Some of the crowd seemed friendly; others were gawping openly at the men’s missing limbs and injured faces.

‘Seen enough, have you?’ Corporal Yeoman snarled, glaring round at them all. ‘P’raps you’d like to pay for a ticket to see us instead of the film?’

‘Corporal, please!’ Dulcie begged, but Corporal Yeoman was already squaring up to one of the men, his one remaining fist raised.

‘Come on, then,’ he challenged him, but the man just laughed.

‘You’re joking, mate. I’d never hit a cripple. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.’

Corporal Yeoman’s face flushed red, but Sam Trevelyan stepped in.

‘Leave it, George.’ His voice was low but full of authority. ‘He’s not worth it.’

For a tense moment George Yeoman carried on squaring up to the man. Then he let his fist drop to his side.

‘You’re right,’ he muttered, turning away.

‘Coward,’ the young civilian said under his breath. The sight of his jeering face brought a red mist down in front of Dulcie’s eyes. Before she knew what she was doing, she had grabbed the man by the sleeve and wheeled him round to face her.

‘How dare you?’ she roared. ‘You’re the coward, not him! What was your excuse, then? Short-sighted? Flat feet? I suppose you’ve ended up with some cushy office job? What a hero you are, shuffling forms all day. Takes a real man to do something like that, I reckon.’ The man flushed deep crimson. ‘And yet you dare to stare and call these men names? I’ll bet the closest you ever get to Vimy Ridge or Cambrai is reading about them in the newspaper while you’re safe at home.’

‘Moore! What do you think you’re doing?’ Miriam had returned from the box office, a sheaf of tickets in her hand. ‘Stop making a show of yourself at once.’

Dulcie looked round at the ring of wounded soldiers, all staring at her in astonishment, then back at the man in front of her. He seemed to have shrunk before her, shrivelling into his smart suit, his face puce with embarrassment. Even his lady friend was glaring at him as if seeing him for the first time.

‘Come on!’ Miriam Trott took her arm, leading her away. But Dulcie hadn’t finished yet.

‘You’re pathetic,’ she called back over her shoulder. ‘Corporal Yeoman might only have one arm but I bet he’d still be able to knock you out with a single punch!’

‘Really, Moore, don’t you know how to behave?’ Miriam hissed as they took their seats in the darkened picture house.

‘I don’t care. He deserved it,’ Dulcie said.

‘You’ll soon care if someone tells Matron!’