‘It’s my fault, Sister,’ Sergeant McCray spoke up, breaking the silence. ‘I was the one who started it.’

‘Be that as it may, Sergeant, Nurse Duffield should know better than to join in.’ Miss Sutton turned her beady eyes to Grace. ‘I’m surprised at you, Nurse.’ She shook her head. ‘What have I always told you about maintaining a calm, cheerful disposition?’

‘Sorry, Sister.’ Grace studied the toes of her stout black shoes. She had forgotten to polish them the previous night. She hoped Sister didn’t notice the scuff marks.

There was no point trying to defend herself. All Grace could do was stand there, cheeks burning with humiliation, and hope that the storm of Miss Sutton’s anger blew itself out sooner rather than later.

But the worst of it was that Dr Carlyle was watching her with those shrewd dark eyes of hers. God only knew what she made of it all.

Finally, after five minutes of hearing how incompetent, irresponsible and utterly unsuited to nursing she was, and with a few dark threats about sending her to Matron, Grace was allowed to escape.

To her relief, Miss Sutton dismissed her to the new ward to help settle the patients.

Private Gordon was still in his wheelchair, beside his freshly made bed. The orderly was trying to chat to him, but Gordon had turned his head away, staring listlessly out of the French windows.

‘What a lovely spot you have, Private Gordon. Talk about a room with a view!’ Grace went to the French windows and peered out. ‘And, look, you can see your old ward from here. You and Corporal Sallis can wave to each other.’

Gordon sent her a gloomy look, but said nothing. His eyes were still red-rimmed from crying.

‘He’s had a bit of an accident, Nurse.’ The orderly nodded towards the dark stain in the lap of Gordon’s hospital gown.

‘Oh. Well, never mind. You wait there, Private Gordon, and I’ll fetch some water to get you washed. We’ll soon have you nice and comfortable again.’

As Grace was returning with the washing trolley, she nearly collided with Kate Carlyle emerging from one of the side rooms. Fortunately, Grace just managed to pull the trolley to a stop before she mowed the doctor down.

‘Sorry, Doctor, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

‘No, Nurse, it was I who should have been paying attention.’ Dr Carlyle eyed the trolley. ‘Where are you off to with that?’

‘Private Gordon needs cleaning up, Doctor.’

‘Oh. I see.’

‘He’s just a bit unsettled,’ Grace said.

‘Right. Yes.’

‘I’ll get on with it then …’

Grace had started to push the trolley away when Dr Carlyle called out, ‘I heard what you said to that patient – the amputee?’

Grace gave her an embarrassed smile. ‘You couldn’t really miss it, could you?’

‘Indeed. I had no idea you could shout so loud, Nurse Duffield.’

‘Oh, you’d be surprised, Doctor. I grew up with eleven brothers and sisters. You have to be able to shout just to be heard among that lot!’