What a carry on this was, with the mother in one town and the baby in another, she thought. It seemed all wrong to her. Yet someone must do their Christian duty to bring the patient her clothes and find out just what was the matter with her. Surely once Netta heard the good news that Hitler was on the run, that the war was almost over and Stratharvar would soon be lighting a bonfire and ringing the kirk bell, she would pull herself together for the Victory celebrations. It was good to have no more blackouts and travel restrictions; the seaports round Stranraer would be cleared of landing gear, the last of the evacuees had long since been sent packing. The Nichol family had so much to look forward to when the world got back to normal again.

The ward door was locked and Peg pressed the buzzer. A young nurse in starched cap and apron asked her name and ushered her inside quickly, past a line of sleepwalking shufflers eyeing her curiously with blank stares. ‘This is a secure ward, Mrs Nichol. We have to keep everything locked, I’m afraid.’ The nurse smiled politely but Peg was terrified when the door clanged behind them. ‘I take it you’re Mrs Hunter’s mother?’

‘Her stepmother,’ Peg replied sharply. She did not want anyone to think any of these shenanigans came from her side of the family.

‘I see. Well, no matter. We must take a full history from you. It’s not good news, I’m afraid. Sister will explain. You’ll see a marked change in the girl. Don’t be shocked, it won’t last. These things have to take their course. Visiting will have to be strictly limited, just a few minutes today. In future, better to write for permission to visit just in case the patient is having treatments. I expect it’s been a long journey for you from down the coast.

‘Here, she’s in the side room on her own for the moment. We’ve had to keep her separate, she’s been a bit noisy… you’ll see. I’ll fetch Sister to see you.’

Peg was not prepared for the sight of Netta, sitting on the edge of her bed dressed in an old nightie. She was rocking back and forth like some strange creature. Her red hair was unkempt, standing out all over her head like Madge Wildfire, the beautiful tresses matted and dull. Her tongue was hanging out as if she was panting. Netta looked up at her but the eyes did not register the visitor. Such glassy eyes, heavy with drugs.

The Sister bustled in briskly. ‘Now, Jeanette, look who’s come to see you all the way from Stratharvar.’

‘Where’s my baby?’ was the only response Netta could make to her.

‘He’s fine.’ Peg felt a lump choking in her throat.