Corporal Bennett grinned. ‘Oh, well, I s’pose I’d best write to my pals in France and ask ’em to look for my old one, eh? I seem to recall I left it in a dugout somewhere near Passchendaele.’

Beside her, Staff Nurse Hanley tutted. ‘Do get on with it, Nurse! That poultice will be stone cold by the time you put it on!’

Anna sent her a sideways glance. She dreaded doing the dressings round, but she dreaded doing it with Staff Nurse Hanley even more. The older woman towered over her, as big and strong as a man, not an ounce of compassion or sympathy in her square-jawed face.

‘Best do as she says, Nurse.’ Corporal Bennett was gritting his teeth now, his whole body tensing, ready for what was to come. ‘Get it over with.’

Anna removed the cloth covering the enamel dish and took out the steaming poultice. She took a deep breath, gave the young soldier a quick nod to make sure he was ready, then pressed the hot poultice to his raw wound.

Corporal Bennett hissed with pain, tears springing to his eyes. It was for his own good, Anna told herself over and over again. The poultice would keep the wound clean and fresh, to give it the best chance to heal properly.

She turned her gaze away from the young man’s anguished face and looked towards the window instead. It was late-September and the rain was still coming down as it had for the past week. A dreary curtain of water streamed down the glass, blurring her view of the world outside. Even though it was ten o’clock in the morning, the sun still hadn’t emerged. It lurked behind a dense pall of grey cloud, draining the life and colour from the streets of London’s East End.

But it was worse in France, Anna thought. Edward had written to tell her that it hadn’t stopped raining there all summer. The near-constant drizzle had filled the craters with muddy slime. The field drains had been shattered by the weight of the constant bombardment, and even when the rain did stop there was never enough sunshine to dry out the ground. His letters made her weep, with their stories of living and sleeping knee-deep in icy water, and the men he knew who had died in the man-made swamp.

Please, God, don’t let Edward die. Anna sent up the same silent, beseeching prayer she had said for him every day for the past three years.

‘That’s enough, Nurse!’

The rasp of Staff Nurse Hanley’s voice made Anna jump. She looked up at the woman’s unsmiling face, her thick brows drawn over glacial grey eyes. Then she looked down at her own hand, still pressing the poultice to Corporal Bennett’s wound. He was managing to still smile but his teeth were gritted in agony, and beads of perspiration had formed on his brow.

‘Oh, Lord, I’m sorry.’ Anna snatched the poultice away, dropping it back in the enamel bowl.