‘And who would vet the applications?’ Matron asked. ‘Would that be yourself? Or would it be the agent who asks the girls to fill in the forms and gives them the necessary information about St Angelus and the role of a nurse and the duties expected of her?’

‘Well, Matron—’

She had only stopped to draw breath, as he soon realised.

‘And who will provide the girls with the details about the nurses’ home and their rooms? And there are the exams too.’ She turned to Dr Gaskell. ‘We need to make sure they are all very much aware of what they are coming to. We don’t want anyone arriving in Liverpool with the idea that training as a nurse at St Angelus is a holiday, now do we?’

‘Oh, are you asking my opinion?’ Dr Gaskell said with raised eyebrows.

Mr Keene gave him a rueful smile.

‘You see, the problem is, Mr Keene, there is a shortage of nurses all over England, the hospital is expanding and we were so impressed with the last girl we took in from these parts, we thought this would be a good idea. But I am very concerned that we do get the right sort of girl. We maintain very high standards at St Angelus. Without standards there is only chaos.’ Matron picked up the glass of water Mr Keene had poured for her and took a sip.

Mr Keene seized his opportunity. ‘Matron, let me explain exactly how it will work,’ he said, in a very firm tone. ‘The agent will tour the villages along the Atlantic coast, further west than here, and he will display in the post office of each one an advertisement announcing his arrival. It will say that he will return on such a day between certain times. The postmistress or master will lay out a table and two chairs on the said day. Before him he will have all the details, as furnished by you, and then, when he has spoken to whoever has expressed an interest, he will ask the girl if she would like to submit an application form.’

‘What are these villages like?’ Matron asked. ‘We can only take girls who have had a good schooling.’

Mr Keene thought of Rosie over at Tarabeg. Now there was an impressive schoolmistress, and someone Matron would have difficulty bossing around. ‘Look, I’m about to visit a property a client of mine has bought over in that direction. It was a manor house and he’s to convert it into a hotel. Why don’t you join me? That way, I can introduce you to one of the schoolmistresses and you can see for yourself the sort of villages and homes the girls are coming from.’

Matron clapped her hands together. ‘Gosh, I think that sounds like a very good idea, don’t you, Dr Gaskell?’ It had been a long time since she’d felt this excited about the future of the hospital. The shortage of applicants for nursing positions had begun to worry her and she’d lost count of the times she’d begun her day dreading the possibility that one or more nurses might be off sick. When they were short-staffed, standards were compromised.