As Grace approached Miss Parker’s office, she heard Dr Carlyle’s voice coming from inside.

‘A full discharge,’ she was saying. ‘I really didn’t expect that, did you?’

‘As a matter of fact, I did,’ said Dr Logan. ‘I’ve read his records, and frankly I’m not surprised the army doesn’t want him in their ranks anymore.’

‘Is he that bad?’

‘The man is more lethal than a hand grenade.’

Grace paused, her hand still raised to knock on the door.

‘Perhaps we should be keeping him in, if he’s so unstable?’ she heard Dr Carlyle say.

‘I would agree with you, if there was anything we could do to help him.’

‘Are you saying he can’t be cured?’

‘I’m saying,’ Dr Logan replied, ‘that what we’re dealing with is far more than a case of neurasthenia. This particular psychopathy is deep seated and would take a great deal of time and effort to treat. Always assuming Private Stanning is willing, which I believe is highly unlikely, given that he doesn’t believe there is anything wrong with him …’

Private Stanning?

Grace took a step back, straight into a screen that had been left outside the office. Time seemed to freeze as it fell, crashing to the ground in horrifying slow motion.

She was still standing there, rooted to the spot, as the door to Sister’s office opened and Kate Carlyle stuck her head out.

‘What the – oh, Nurse Duffield, it’s you.’ There was no surprise on her face as she looked down at the calamity and then back at Grace. ‘What do you want?’

Grace opened her mouth but no sound emerged.

‘I – I was looking for Sister,’ she finally managed.

‘I believe she went down to Matron’s office to discuss a new admission.’

‘Right. Thank you, Doctor.’

Grace glanced beyond Dr Carlyle’s shoulder. Dr Logan was sitting at Miss Parker’s desk, his head bent over a sheaf of notes.

‘Was there something else, Nurse Duffield?’ Dr Carlyle frowned at her.

‘No. No, thank you, Doctor.’

The next moment the door closed in her face, shutting her out. Grace stood for a moment, staring at the name plate bearing the words ‘Ward Sister’s Office’. She could see her shocked face reflected in the polished brass.

‘Honestly, Duffield, you could be more careful!’

Grace turned to see Mary Finnegan behind her. ‘I’m sorry?’ she murmured.

‘Trampling around like a baby elephant, knocking things over.’ Mary tutted as she went to pick up the fallen screen. ‘You know it sets them off. Saunders is still trying to calm Sergeant Flynn down. The poor man is hiding under his bed, convinced he’s under enemy fire – are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘I – I’m fine.’ Grace glanced back at the closed door.

‘Then help me with this, would you?’

Grace galvanised herself into action and between them they lifted the heavy screen back in place, just as Miss Parker returned to the ward.

‘At last!’ Mary Finnegan said. ‘Now we can go off duty. Try not to wreck the place overnight, won’t you?’