He looked so sympathetic, Anna thought about telling him the truth. That her husband was stealing money from their business and gambling it all away with his friends night after night. She could even tell him about Nellie Madigan too, and all the whispered conversations and laughter she pretended not to hear.

But she still had a shred of pride left, so instead she pasted on a smile and said,

‘I wouldn’t say so, Doctor.’

Half an hour later, she was lining up at the pharmacist’s with a prescription for an iron tonic in her hand.

Seeing the doctor’s scrawl on the paper made her think of all the Latin instructions she had had to decipher at the Nightingale. Donec alv. sol. fuerit, Per. op. emet, Omn. hor – she had learned them all during her training. She knew from the words Noct. Maneq. on her prescription that the tonic was to be taken morning and night, even before the chemist told her.

Once she had been the one dispensing the medications. She had a sudden picture of a very different Anna, doing the drugs round, measuring out medicines and administering pills and injections, utterly sure of her own ability.

Now she could barely get dressed in the morning without doubting herself.

‘I hope it does the trick.’

Anna caught the look of pity on the chemist’s face as he handed her the brown paper bag. She knew what he was seeing. Not the proud, confident young woman she had once been, but the thin, washed-out wreck she had become. Anna could scarcely bear to look at herself in the mirror anymore. She could not face the drawn, pale face under lank brown hair, or those hollow, desperate eyes.

She trudged home slowly, taking the back streets, clinging to the brick walls like a shadow. There was a time when she would have greeted everyone and stopped to chat. Now she kept her head down and prayed that she didn’t see anyone she knew.

As she approached Chambord Street, the old familiar dread began to uncurl inside her. What would be waiting for her at home? Would Edward be in a good mood? Would he take her in his arms and tell her he loved her, or would he snarl at her?

Worst of all, he might be in one of his difficult moods. This was when Anna could sense a storm brewing, and had to pick her way carefully around him, knowing that any wrong word, or even an unguarded look, could cause him to erupt.

Sometimes she could tell what the day would bring from the night before. If Edward had won on the cards, he would probably be laughing and joking in the morning. If he had lost – which was the case more often than not – he would be surly and snappish.

Last night he hadn’t returned until the early hours. Anna had lain rigid, pretending to be asleep. But she could smell Nellie’s cheap scent coming off him as he undressed and got into bed beside her.