Unfortunately, she had never quite grasped what it meant to be a VAD. Or rather, she chose not to. She was very good at reading and writing letters for the men, and she always took a great deal of trouble serving tea, although not all the men appreciated her wafer-thin cucumber sandwiches. Once she had even had her piano brought in from home so she could entertain the patients with her singing, until Matron tactfully suggested they could all do without her tremulous soprano.

But when it came to getting her hands dirty, Mrs Marchant was decidedly unforthcoming.

‘Nurse, I simply don’t have the first idea how to make up a fire,’ she insisted, as she and Grace stood in front of the fireplace. ‘We have a girl to do it at home.’

‘It’s quite simple,’ Grace said. ‘You just have to clean out the grate, then take some paper and some kindling, and—’

‘So many instructions! I’ll never remember them all.’ Vivienne Marchant looked flustered. ‘I really think it would be easier if you showed me, Nurse. Then I’ll know what to do next time.’

There was a point at which she could have said no, Grace reflected later, as she kneeled down before the fireplace, sweeping ashes out of the grate on to a sheet of newspaper. There was a moment when she could have straightened her shoulders, looked Mrs Marchant in the eyes and told her just to get on with it. But she couldn’t for the life of her think when it had been. In fact, Mrs Marchant had long since lost interest in watching her demonstration and had disappeared off to the kitchen to gossip with the other VADs.

Grace tried to tell herself she didn’t really mind, that it was probably quicker and easier for her just to do it herself. But inside she felt foolish.

She was still trying to coax some life into the fire when Sylvia came up behind her and said, ‘Duffield, it’s ten o’clock. Shouldn’t we be outside, waiting for the doctor?’

‘Oh, Lord!’ Grace jumped to her feet and gathered up the newspaper, sending up a cloud of ash. ‘He’s probably out there waiting now. Go outside with Finnegan and keep him occupied, will you? I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve cleaned this lot up.’

It was a little ceremony all the doctors expected on their round, to be greeted at the doors by the ward sister and nurses, who would then follow him like handmaidens from bed to bed.

As Sylvia and Mary left, Grace stuffed the newspaper bundle in a metal bucket, and scuffed the drift of ash into the polished floor with the toe of her shoe. Hopefully Dr Logan would not be quite so meticulous in his inspection as Matron had been.

Then she hurried down the ward, jabbing a loose pin back into her cap as she went.

Just as she had feared, Dr Logan was already waiting in the corridor, frowning ostentatiously at his watch. Sylvia Saunders and Mary Finnegan stood awkwardly beside him, shuffling their feet.