He looked away, his blank mask back in place.

‘My father has a dairy farm, just outside Tiverton,’ Grace ploughed on. ‘There have been Duffields there for at least six generations, Pa says. He reckons our family might even go back to William the Conqueror …’

‘Jesus Christ!’ Sam Trevelyan’s pained curse cut her off.

‘I’m sorry,’ Grace said. ‘Did I hurt you?’

He flashed her a murderous look. ‘I’m not interested in your family, or where you come from, or bloody William the Conqueror for that matter!’ he hissed. ‘Just concentrate on what you’re doing, will you?’

Before Grace could reply, Dulcie joined in.

‘Leave her alone, she’s doing her best,’ she said. ‘Anyway, she’s only trying to be nice.’

‘I don’t want her to be nice,’ Sam Trevelyan snarled back. ‘I just want her to do her job properly!’

‘It was my fault,’ Grace put in quickly. ‘He’s right, I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing. I – I’m sorry.’

As she blundered to her feet, she crashed into the dressings trolley, sending another bowl of swabs flying and splashing Dulcie with saline.

‘Careful, you clumsy oaf!’ Dulcie gasped, mopping at her apron.

‘Leave her alone, she’s doing her best,’ Sam Trevelyan parroted in a low voice.

Grace swung round to look at him. His face was impassive as ever, but she wondered if she had imagined the glint of amusement in his green eyes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘I don’t know why you bother trying to be nice to him,’ Dulcie said later, after she had changed her apron and they were continuing with the dressings round. ‘He’s so rude.’

‘Dr Carlyle says I should try to talk to him,’ Grace replied. ‘She’s worried about how withdrawn he is.’

‘Oh, Dr Carlyle!’ Dulcie said scornfully. ‘I suppose she’s decided he’s to be another of her pet shell shock cases?’

‘Don’t say it like that. Dr Carlyle says neurasthenia is a real medical condition.’

‘Neurasthenia now, is it? I suppose Dr Carlyle taught you that word, too? Giving it a fancy name doesn’t make it real, you know.’

‘There are psychiatric hospitals where they offer specialist treatment—’

‘I wonder Dr Carlyle doesn’t go and work there, then.’

‘Dr Carlyle is a physician, not a psychiatrist,’ Grace reminded her.

‘Why should that stop her? Since she’s so wonderful, I would have thought she could do anything.’

Dulcie’s voice was bitter with jealousy, and Grace knew why. Years ago, while they were students, Dulcie and Kate Carlyle had fallen out over a man. Dulcie had ended up humiliated and she had never forgiven Dr Carlyle for it.

It was such a pity, Grace thought. As far as she was concerned, Kate Carlyle was an inspiration. As the first female medical student at the Nightingale, she had fearlessly taken on the men and beaten them at their own game. She had overcome all kinds of obstacles and prejudices to qualify as a doctor, and also to work on the male wards, somewhere female doctors were generally not allowed.