‘A holiday in Ireland, at this time of the year? Won’t the weather be awful? You said yourself that it rains every day. Why don’t you go at Christmas?’

Dana looked thoughtful and trotted along in Pammy’s wake. ‘You know, I think I might do both and split it. I know it’s a long journey, but I need to be in my own bed for a week. I won’t notice the weather. I just won’t get out of bed.’

‘Don’t you always end up working on the farm when you go back?’

‘I do. I used to call it work – until I was put on male medical. Now I’d call it a bloomin’ holiday.’

Both girls were laughing as they entered the greasy spoon. They found the other nurses from the Lovely Lane nurses’ home and took their places at the table. Within minutes, they were deep in conversation. A little while after they’d sat down, Pammy interrupted the chatter. ‘Oh look, here’s Dr Gaskell. You never see him in here, he usually has his coffee with Matron. Looks like he’s heading our way.’

As Dana turned, he smiled at her and inclined his head. He was looking for her. She pushed back her chair. ‘He is, and I think I know what it’s about.’ She walked over and met him by the coffee urn, before he got to within earshot of her table. ‘Are you looking for me, Dr Gaskell?’ she said.

‘I am indeed. Thank you very much for coming over. Best to keep this to ourselves. You know what Matron’s like about standards – she’s been very accommodating, but she wouldn’t want the Marcus situation to become common knowledge.’ He raised one eyebrow and smiled.

‘I do,’ said Dana. ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t even told Pammy what you told me. It doesn’t feel right – they were so much in love, those two, and it feels like I’d be intruding, even now after he’s dead. Do you know what I mean?’

Dr Gaskell nodded slowly and surveyed her face, satisfied that she was as sincere and trustworthy as he’d thought. ‘I wanted to let you know that I called to see Mary Kate, as I said I would, and was rather surprised to discover that she has left Liverpool already.’

Dana swallowed hard. She thought about the letter she’d written home and prayed her mother had not told a living soul; and yet, even as she did so, she knew the chance of that was as good as zero. She hadn’t told anyone in Liverpool, but she’d told her mother everything, if only to fill up the large sheet of flimsy pale blue paper that folded over into its own envelope when you licked the sticky edges and pressed them down. Dana liked to fill the sheet; it made her feel like she was getting her money’s worth.

She knew that every letter she sent home travelled halfway around Mayo before the next one arrived, but she hadn’t thought it mattered that much because she never normally mentioned any names and no one back home knew who she was writing about anyway. But this was different. She’d broken a golden rule. Dread began to flood through her veins. Liverpool was a million miles away in both culture and attitudes from the villages of Ireland. Over there, unmarried women who fell pregnant went missing virtually overnight.