‘Aw, Jesus, will you look at the fuss he’s making?’ Sergeant McCray shouted out in exasperation. He had come in a week earlier, a loud-mouthed Scottish sergeant who had had his right leg amputated below the knee. ‘He ought to be ashamed of himself!’

‘Oi!’ Albie shouted back. ‘You watch what you’re saying. That’s my pal you’re talking about.’

‘Then you ought to be ashamed, too!’ Sergeant McCray called back. ‘Look at him, blubbering like a great baby. I didn’t make all that fuss when they were sawing my bloody leg off! You want to act like a man, son. Get out of that bloody wheelchair and walk!’

Grace saw Gordon’s shoulders stiffen, his head go down.

‘He can’t walk, in case you haven’t noticed,’ Albie said.

‘Can’t walk? Won’t walk, you mean! We all know he’s putting it on. Shell shock, indeed!’ Sergeant McCray shook his head, mouth curling in disgust. ‘A lot of fuss over nothing, I call it. Any of my men started sobbing like a lass, I’d give ’em a swift kick up the backside and tell them to get on with it. Look at him,’ he sneered, ‘hunched up in that wheelchair. You know what I’m saying is right, don’t you, Gordon? That’s why you can’t meet my eye. You might be able to fool your daft friend over there, but I’m not afraid to call you what you are – a bloody coward!’

Grace saw Albie start to throw back his bedclothes, and moved to stop him. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Leave him, it’s not good for you to upset yourself.’

‘But he’s—’

‘I said, leave him.’ Grace turned away from him to face the Scottish sergeant. He was sitting up in bed, his angry face as red as a side of beef.

But Grace was angry too. She could feel it simmering inside her, bubbling through her veins. It was a rare feeling for her.

‘You can still feel your leg, can’t you, Sergeant McCray?’ she said.

He stared at her, blankly. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘It’s true, isn’t it? You’re convinced it’s still there. I’ve heard you telling Dr Carlyle how much it’s hurting you.’

A couple of the other men muttered in agreement. ‘I get that too,’ Corporal Bennett agreed. ‘I could swear my arm is still there sometimes. The doctor reckons it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.’

‘Exactly, Corporal,’ Grace said. ‘Your mind is a very powerful thing. It can make you believe all kinds of things, like your arm’s not missing, or there are German snipers hiding on the ward, or that you can’t walk …’

She was aware that a hush had fallen over the men. At first Grace thought it might be her impassioned speech that had stunned all of them into silence – until she turned round and saw Miss Sutton standing there, bristling in her grey uniform. Dr Carlyle was with her.

‘Nurse Duffield,’ Miss Sutton shook her head, jowls wobbling. ‘I might have known it would be you, causing a commotion as usual.’