His eyesight was still as good as ever, and he could see people moving about on the terrace and croquet lawn accompanied by nurses and orderlies whose uniforms glowed white in the gathering gloom. He felt a deep pang of sadness for the many young lives that had been lost or irreparably damaged because of the war, and prayed that Danuta had come through the operation.

It was still very early, so Ron lingered for a while to smoke his pipe and reminisce. Kitty had been a patient here, and so had Mike Taylor, young Ruby’s Canadian. Both had suffered life-changing injuries, but they’d pulled through and were living life to the full, so he had to keep faith that Danuta would too. He fully admitted to himself that he was reluctant to go down there and find out how she was, and silently berated himself for being a coward before tapping the spent tobacco from his pipe and clambering over the gate.

‘Come on, Harvey,’ he murmured. ‘All this speculation does no one any good.’

He strode down the lawn towards the terrace as the first drops of icy rain splattered over him. By the time he’d reached the double doors, the terrace and croquet lawn were deserted, so he ordered Harvey to wait beneath a nearby bench and pushed his way into the hall. He could hear voices and the squeak of rubber-soled shoes on polished floors, and wrinkled his nose at the reek of disinfectant before he headed for the matron’s office.

Ron had always been wary of matrons, for past experience had proved they stood no nonsense and rarely had a sense of humour, but today he was feeling quite confident. The battleaxe who’d once ruled this place with an iron fist and sour temperament had long since been moved to another hospital, and Ron hoped her replacement would prove to be more helpful and understanding.

He took off his cap, smoothed his hair and eyebrows, and rapped lightly on the door.

The door opened and Ron’s heart sank. The officious Matron Billings from Cliffehaven General, with whom he’d had several unpleasant run-ins, stood in the open doorway.

Her gimlet gaze pierced him with disfavour. ‘What do you want at this hour, Reilly?’

He gripped his cap and returned her stare. ‘I’ve come to enquire about a patient who was brought in very early this morning.’

‘Visiting hours are from two until four,’ she said briskly as she began to close the door on him.

Ron shoved his boot in the narrowing gap. ‘I’m Miss Chmielewski’s guardian,’ he said firmly, ‘and therefore have a right to know if she came through her operation.’

The large bosom rose and fell as the narrowed eyes regarded him. ‘I was not aware that Miss Chim … Miss Chemyl …’ She gave up the struggle. ‘There is no mention of you in her notes,’ she said coldly.