Anna surveyed her critically, noticing her grubby blouse and the way her skirt strained over her rounded hips.

Edward checked his watch. ‘Is it that time already? I should be getting the next batch in the oven.’

‘You mean you haven’t done it?’ Nellie shook her head. ‘You’re slacking, Eddie Stanning.’

‘I can’t help it if I wanted to spend time with my wife, can I?’ Edward leaned over and planted a kiss on Anna’s cheek. ‘No, you finish your breakfast, sweetheart,’ he said, as she started to rise. ‘Nellie and I can open up the shop. It’s about time she started earning her living!’

‘Cheeky beggar!’ she laughed.

Anna felt a sudden stab of jealousy.

‘Nellie?’ she said. The girl turned around. ‘Make sure you fasten your hair up. You need to look tidy for the customers.’

Nellie glanced at Edward, twisting a red curl between her fingers. Then she gave an insolent little smile.

‘Yes, Mrs Stanning.’ She bobbed a curtsey and left the room, her hips swinging.

Edward went after her. Anna heard their murmuring voices as they descended the stairs, followed by a sudden burst of coarse laughter from Nellie.

She sat very still at the table, looking down at her hands.

They must have thought she was very stupid. Or perhaps they just didn’t care enough to try to hide their dirty little secret.

It hurt that she wasn’t enough for him. But at least it meant he left her alone in the bedroom, and Anna was grateful for that.

She finished her tea and went to the sink to wash up the breakfast dishes. Nellie and Edward’s voices drifted up to her from downstairs, laughing and joking together.

That was what really hurt, more than anything. It should have been her and Edward laughing together, working side by side, just as they had once. That had always been her dream and now it felt as if someone had stolen it.

If Edward had deliberately set out to hurt her, he couldn’t have picked a better way.

But it wasn’t his fault, she reminded herself. He was sick, he didn’t know what he was doing. If anything it was her fault for not being the wife he needed.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Dear George,

As I write this letter to you, I am sitting at the French windows looking out over the garden. How beautiful it all looks now it is starting to flower again. It has been such a long, dreadful winter I began to wonder if we would ever see spring. But now the cherry trees are heavy with blossom, and even the roses are starting to bloom …

Dulcie looked up at Sub Lieutenant Hawkins. He was slumped against the pillows, his eyes half closed. She didn’t blame him for his lethargy; his mother’s letters were enough to send anyone to sleep.

She let the letter drop into her lap and turned her attention to the commotion going on at the far end of the ward.