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to work out whether he’d lost colour or whether his breathing was too shallow. She didn’t want to admit it to Sister, but she dreaded looking after post-operative patients on her own. She was always convinced they would die and it would somehow be her fault.
    Mr Campbell seemed much nicer when he wasn’t awake and being a nuisance, she thought. Not bad-looking either, in a way. He was well built, his dark hair unfashionably long with just a hint of a curl at the ends. She could imagine his pale skin freckling in the sun.
    She watched the rise and fall of his chest under his hospital gown. Was it her imagination or was it rising and falling a little less than it had before? Panic assailed her. Come to think of it, was it rising and falling at all?
    She had laid her head against his chest and was trying to gauge his breathing when he suddenly opened his eyes and stared at her.
    ‘What are you doing?’ he asked. He spoke in a well-educated drawl, like a medical student.
    ‘Making sure you’re still breathing.’ Effie straightened up, shamefaced at being caught out.
    ‘Have you been sitting here all this time, watching me sleep?’
    ‘It’s my job to keep an eye on you.’
    ‘It’s very disturbing.’
    ‘I have to do it until we know you’ve recovered properly from the operation.’ Effie reached for his pulse. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked. ‘Any nausea or pain?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Do you want me to fetch a bottle for you?’
    ‘A bottle?’ He looked mystified for a moment, then suddenly it dawned on him what she was talking about, and his expression turned to outrage. ‘Certainly not!’
    ‘You’ll have to use one sooner or later.’
    ‘Not in front of you, I won’t.’
    ‘Oh, I’ve seen it all before,’ she said airily. ‘Besides, I’ll need to take a sample.’ She finished taking his pulse and noted down the figure on the chart. She could feel him watching her.
    ‘Do you know if Sister’s found out anything about Richard?’ he asked.
    Effie shook her head. ‘But I’m sure she’ll tell you as soon as she knows anything.’ She looked down at him. ‘Is there anyone we can contact, to let them know what’s happened? Any family?’
    His face turned to stone. ‘I don’t have any family.’
    ‘A friend, then?’
    He thought for a moment. ‘You could contact Adeline,’ he said.
    ‘Who is she?’
    ‘My girlfriend. She’ll want to know where I am.’
    ‘Where will we find her?’
    He gave her an address in Bloomsbury, and Effie wrote it down carefully.
    ‘You will let her know, won’t you?’ Adam said.
    ‘Of course.’
    Sister Blake was sitting at the table in the middle of the ward when Effie gave her the slip of paper with the address written on it.
    ‘Adeline Moreau? What a pretty name,’ she commented. ‘Thank you, O’Hara, I’ll inform the Almoner’s office. I daresay it will make the patient feel a lot better to see a familiar face.’
    ‘Yes, Sister.’
    Sister Blake looked up at her. She was by far the prettiest of the sisters, small, dark and lively-looking. She was one of the nicest, too. In the month Effie had been working on the Male Orthopaedic ward, she had never known Sister raise her voice to anyone. All the patients adored her because she was always willing to have a laugh and a joke with them.
    ‘You’ve done very well, O’Hara,’ she said. ‘I don’t think Mr Campbell is going to be the easiest patient to deal with, do you?’
    ‘No, Sister.’ Effie glowed with quiet pride. Wouldn’t her elder sisters be surprised to hear her being praised for once? she thought.
    Sister Blake went back to her paperwork, but Effie hovered at her shoulder. She wondered if she should ruin it all by asking her next question.
    Finally, Sister Blake looked up. ‘Was there something else, O’Hara?’
    ‘Please, Sister, I wondered if you’d had any news about Mr Campbell’s friend – Mr Webster? Only he seemed very anxious to know . . .’
    ‘Ah, yes. I’m glad