No sooner had she said the words than the boom of the anti-aircraft guns in Victoria Park shook the windows. This was followed by another, and another, making the glasses rattle on the bedside lockers.

Corporal Frost flinched and covered his head with his arms. ‘“It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go …”’ his muffled voice sang.

‘Can’t you shut him up?’ Edward complained from the next bed.

‘You should have taken that sedative, shouldn’t you? I warned you the nights could be lively,’ Grace snapped back.

There was another boom from the anti-aircraft guns, making the metal bed frames rattle.

Grace got down on her hands and knees. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘They’re on our side.’

She wasn’t sure if Corporal Frost heard her or not, he was trembling so much.

‘“It’s a long … It’s a long … It’s …”’ Grace saw his Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively as he fought to find the words. But he had lost the thread of his song, and she could see his fragile self-control unravelling with it.

She slid under the bed beside him and reached for his hand. His long, bony fingers were slick with sweat.

‘“It’s a long way to Tipperary,”’ she sang out. ‘“It’s a long way to go …”’

He stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. His mouth moved along with the words, but no sound came out.

‘Come on, Corporal,’ Grace urged. ‘“It’s a long way to Tipperary …”’

‘Doesn’t he know another song?’ Edward grumbled from somewhere above her.

‘Stop complaining, you miserable bugger!’ Albie shouted back. ‘Come on, lads, let’s have a sing-song.’

There weren’t many who joined in. Only a few could remember the words, but others clapped along. In the end even Edward joined in. Soon they were all singing and clapping, drowning out the sound of the bombs and the anti-aircraft guns.

Grace looked at Corporal Frost. He was singing too, tears streaming down his face.

Then, gradually, the men stopped singing, their voices fading.

‘What have you stopped for?’ Grace called out. ‘Come on, keep singing!’

She stuck her head out from under the bed to see what was going on, only to find herself staring at a pair of highly polished black shoes. Her gaze moved slowly upwards, past long, pinstripe legs, to settle far above on a bespectacled face looking down at her.

‘Hello, Nurse,’ Dr Logan said. ‘Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?’

Grace tried to extricate herself but Corporal Frost gripped her hand tighter, holding her fast.

‘I’m singing, Doctor,’ she replied.

She saw his features tighten and knew it was the wrong thing to say.

‘I heard that, Nurse. You have managed to drown out the noise of the air raid.’

‘That was the point, Sir.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Corporal Frost is finding the air raid quite difficult, Sir.’ He was clutching her hand so tightly now, she could feel his nails piercing her skin. ‘I thought if we sang, we could drown out the sound of the guns.’