At supper, Dulcie had positioned herself at the far end of the long dining-room table, but she could still hear Sylvia’s excited little squeaks over the clatter of plates and cutlery, talking about the reception party.

And now, Dulcie found herself trapped in the common room at the nurses’ house, listening to the bride-to-be going on and on about flowers.

‘I mean, anemones are pretty too, I suppose. But they’re rather a showy flower, don’t you think?’

‘Lord help us.’

Dulcie hadn’t realised she had uttered the words aloud until Miriam Trott, who was sitting next to her, turned and said, ‘Did you say something, Moore?’

Her tone was innocent, but the malicious glint in those keen brown eyes told Dulcie she had heard every word.

‘I was just wondering if this is all Saunders is going to talk about for the next six months,’ she muttered.

‘I daresay she’s just excited,’ Miriam said. ‘Anyone would be. I’m sure you’d be excited too, if you’d just got engaged.’

There was something about the way she said it that made Dulcie’s hackles rise. There had never been any love lost between her and Miriam Trott, from the day they started training together three years earlier. Miriam was a tiny, bird-like creature, with mouse-brown hair, beady eyes and a beaky nose she was always sticking where it didn’t belong. She had a very unkind streak and seemed to take pleasure in other people’s suffering.

She was taking a lot of pleasure in the present situation, Dulcie thought.

‘Yes, but I wouldn’t bore everyone to tears with it,’ she replied, taking another swig from the sherry bottle.

‘That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?’ Miriam nodded towards the bottle. ‘Aren’t you going to pass that round?’

Dulcie passed it to her, and glared as Miriam took a gulp.

I hope it chokes you, she thought.

‘Anyway, I like hearing about Saunders’ wedding plans,’ Miriam said. ‘Although it must be rather difficult for you, I suppose,’ she added as an afterthought.

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ Dulcie lied, snatching the bottle back from her.

‘Oh, come on! Everyone knows you expected to be the one walking down the aisle with Roger Wallace!’

The whole room seemed to fall uncomfortably silent. Dulcie felt everyone’s eyes swivelling curiously in her direction.

‘It was a long time ago and it wasn’t serious,’ she dismissed.

‘Really?’ Miriam said. ‘I seem to remember you telling everyone you were practically engaged. You even chose your bridesmaids. You were so sure he was going to pop the question, and then—’ She shrugged. ‘But that’s just the way it seems to go with you, isn’t it? Men are only interested for five minutes.’

Dulcie’s hand closed around the bottle; she was fighting the urge to throw its contents in Miriam’s smug little face.

‘At least they are interested in me,’ she murmured.

Miriam turned a deep shade of scarlet. ‘And we all know why, don’t we?’ she hissed back.