‘Nurse Padgett has a cold.’

He sent her a sharp look. ‘So you aren’t going to the wedding?’

‘It doesn’t seem like it. Although Miss Parker has already told me she’ll try to arrange my off-duty hours for the middle of the day, so I might be able to get to the ceremony. At least I’ll see them married.’

‘But you won’t come to the reception?’

Grace had a sudden vision of Dulcie, whirling around the dance floor in his arms.

‘No,’ she said.

‘That’s a pity.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind, really. I’m not a very good dancer. Two left feet!’ She smiled ruefully.

For a moment they stared at each other. Grace opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

‘What?’ Dr Logan said.

‘Nothing.’

‘You were going to say something. What was it?’ His eyes were suddenly very bright and intent behind his spectacles.

She was going to tell him about her broken engagement, but what was the point?

‘I was going to thank you – for checking on Private Gordon,’ she amended herself. ‘It means a great deal to Corporal Sallis to know he’s doing well.’

‘Ah.’ Dr Logan nodded.

As he went to walk away, Grace called after him, ‘Enjoy the wedding.’

But he didn’t respond.

Miss Parker was as good as her word. At ten o’clock, she told Grace she could go off duty.

‘But I’ll need you back at two,’ she reminded her. ‘I’m sorry, Nurse Duffield. I know you had other plans.’ Her blue eyes were genuinely regretful.

Before she went off duty, Grace checked on Albie Sallis. He was still fast asleep, snoring gently. Poor man, she thought. He had a lot of catching up to do.

She hurried back to Walford House. It was hardly the perfect day to get married. Yesterday’s blue sky had turned a sludgy grey, with the kind of half-hearted damp drizzle that lowered everyone’s spirits. But Grace was sure Sylvia and Roger wouldn’t allow a spot of rain to spoil their big event.

The wedding was at eleven, which should have given Grace enough time to get ready, if she hadn’t managed to lose one of her shoes and put a hole through her only pair of stockings while rushing to put them on. Then she accidentally sat on her best hat, squashing it flat.

It took her ages to push it into shape again. She had her head down, still trying to tweak the artificial roses back into shape as she hurried down the gravel drive towards the hospital gates.

‘Duffield?’

She looked up sharply. There, standing by the gates, was the forlorn figure of a young woman. She was shivering in the rain.

‘Beck?’

It took Grace a moment to recognise her. Anna had always been slight, but now her coat almost swamped her fragile frame. Even under the careful powdering, Grace could see the pallor of her complexion and the purple shadows that circled her eyes.

There was a suitcase at her feet. As soon as she saw it, Grace realised what had happened.