She finished finally and put them aside. ‘I would like to test your reflexes, Private Gordon, if I may?’

Grace and Dulcie glanced at each other, then slowly they began to back away, inching the trolley between them. But as they turned to go, Dr Carlyle said, ‘Please stay, Nurse Duffield. I may need your help. You may go,’ she dismissed Dulcie curtly.

Grace couldn’t look at Dulcie as she left. But the rattle and squeak of the dressings trolley as it was shoved down the ward told her how angry the other nurse was.

Grace pulled back the covers on Gordon’s bed and carefully adjusted the folds of his voluminous hospital gown to expose his white, bony knees, covered with a smattering of coarse dark hairs. His calf muscles were already starting to wither, she noticed.

She stood back as Dr Carlyle tested the young man’s reflexes. As Grace had expected, there was no response. Dr Carlyle tested them again, striking his knees harder this time with her tiny metal hammer, until even Grace winced. But still Private Gordon did not twitch.

Grace watched Dr Carlyle’s face. Her expression was impassive but there was concern in her dark eyes.

She put her hammer away. ‘Can you stand up for me?’ she asked.

Private Gordon glared at her. ‘C–c–can’t.’ Spittle flew from his slack lips as he struggled over the word.

‘If you could just try.’ She turned to Grace. ‘Help him, Nurse, if you please.’

Grace froze, not knowing what to do. Gordon’s face was working, his eyes filling with tears, mouth moving, trying to frame words that would not emerge. She went to move his legs, but he pushed her away, his hands flailing.

‘C–c–ca—’

‘For pity’s sake, can’t you leave him alone?’ Albie shouted. ‘How do you expect the poor sod to walk in his condition?’

The ward fell silent, his words hanging in the air. Dr Carlyle said nothing as she added a few more lines to the private’s notes.

‘That’s enough for now,’ she said finally. ‘Get him back into bed, Nurse.’

She walked off without another word.

‘Well, I can’t say I thought much of her!’ Albie said.

‘She isn’t always like that, I promise you.’ Grace rearranged Gordon’s hospital gown around his knees. His legs were heavy and lifeless as a puppet’s as she moved them back under the bedclothes and tucked him in carefully. ‘She’s a very good doctor.’

‘I don’t know about that!’ Albie did not look convinced. ‘If that’s lady doctors for you, give me a man any day. What do you say, pal?’ he called over to the next bed. But Gordon did not reply. He lay still, a hunched, curled shape under the bedclothes.

‘Reckon she’s upset him good and proper,’ Albie muttered. ‘We won’t get a word out of him for the rest of the day, I’ll bet.’

‘I’ll bring you both a cup of tea later, if I can,’ Grace promised. As she turned to go, she spotted the buff envelope Dr Carlyle had been carrying. It was lying on top of Gordon’s bedside locker. ‘Oh, dear, the doctor has left the X-rays behind. I’ll take them back to her …’