‘I think she prefers you, lad.’ Albie looked at the young man in the next bed. ‘Gordon’s more the strong, silent type,’ he said. ‘Ain’t that right?’

Private Gordon gave them a wavering smile.

‘See what I mean?’ Albie said. ‘Lucky he’s got me to do all his talking for him, eh?’

‘You seem like good friends,’ Grace said.

‘Would you believe, we only met on the ambulance train coming over from France? But we’re best pals now, ain’t we, Gordon? Albie leaned closer to the nurses. ‘I’ve taken him under my wing, so to speak,’ he whispered to Grace. ‘Poor blighter’s lost the use of his legs. Reckons his back’s broken.’ Albie shook his head. ‘Terrible business. And him only twenty, too.’

‘And what about you, Corporal Sallis?’ Grace said. ‘It says here you have a shrapnel wound.’

‘I’ll say I have, Nurse. A right corker, it is.’

‘Let’s have a look at it, shall we?’

Grace wasn’t sure what to expect as she unwound the dressing around Albie’s head. But the wound was surprisingly small and clean.

‘Hardly a mark there, eh?’ he said proudly. ‘I would scarcely have believed it myself, but the doctor showed me the X-ray last night, and there’s still a bloody great lump of shrapnel in there. If you’ll pardon my French,’ he added quickly.

‘Can they get it out?’ Grace asked.

‘Don’t reckon they can, Nurse. Not without killing me, at any rate.’ Albie sounded remarkably cheerful at the prospect. ‘No, all they can do is leave it there and hope it don’t decide to shift one way or the other. If it does …’ He shrugged. ‘And to think, if that shrapnel had gone in an inch to the left or the right – well, I wouldn’t be here now. I’m a walking miracle, that’s what I am!’

‘I should think you are, Corporal Sallis,’ Grace agreed, as she set about cleaning his wound.

Grace and Dulcie finished the dressings round just as Dr Carlyle arrived on the ward.

Dulcie saw her first. ‘Now we’ll be for it,’ she muttered. ‘You know Sister likes to have everything done before the doctor arrives. We should have finished doing the dressings ages ago. That’s your fault for stopping to chat all the time – oh, Lord, she’s coming this way!’

They both stood to attention, adjusting their caps and smoothing their aprons like soldiers on parade as Dr Carlyle approached, carrying a large buff envelope tucked under her arm. Grace noticed how her gaze slid past Dulcie as she greeted them with a nod.

‘And who’s this?’ Albie immediately turned on his boyish charm. ‘Another pretty nurse? Reckon we’re spoiled, Gordon lad.’

‘Good morning, Corporal Sallis. My name is Dr Carlyle.’ She turned to the young man in the next bed. ‘And you must be Private Gordon?’

‘Dr Carlyle?’ The look of astonishment on Albie’s face made Grace smile. But Kate Carlyle seemed coolly unaware of it as she picked up Gordon’s notes and started to write on them.