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the bed – three blue-striped dresses, several white aprons and bibs, collars, cuffs and a laundry bag. On top of it all sat a square of white fabric starched like cardboard, which she had no idea what to do with.
    Dora carefully unfolded the dress and shook it out. Itwas so freshly laundered, she wanted to hold it up to her face and breathe in the clean, starchy smell. But with Helen Tremayne watching, she could only hurry to get it on.
    It was easier said than done. The dress was thick and heavy, lined with calico, and reached almost to her ankles. The room was chilly, but by the time she’d put on her dress and black woollen stockings she was sweltering.
    ‘What do you do when it’s hot?’ she asked.
    Helen shrugged. ‘You just put up with it, same as you do everything else.’
    Dora struggled to fasten up her cuffs. The studs were small and fiddly, and her hands became clammy with panic.
    ‘Do you want any help?’ Helen offered.
    ‘Thanks.’ Dora studied the other girl as she fastened the studs. Even her severe uniform couldn’t disguise her striking beauty. Her face was a smooth, perfect oval, with huge dark eyes framed by thick lashes.
    She would be even more beautiful if she smiled, Dora thought.
    She wasn’t the easiest person to talk to, either. Dora tried again to make conversation with her. ‘How long have you been here?’
    ‘I’m in my second year as a student.’
    ‘What about Benedict?’
    ‘She’s still a pro – a probationer, I mean. That’s what we call students in their first year. Pass me your collar.’
    Dora handed it to her and lifted her chin so she could fasten it. ‘Thanks – ow! That hurts!’
    ‘Nothing I can do about that, you just have to get used to it. Putting Vaseline on your neck helps if it rubs too much . . . There, that’s done.’ She paused. ‘What’s this around your neck?’
    ‘It’s a hamsa. A kind of lucky charm. A friend gave it to me.’
    ‘It won’t be very lucky for you if Sister Sutton catches you wearing it,’ Helen warned. ‘You’d best take it off and keep it somewhere safe.’
    Dora removed the chain from around her neck, wrapped it in a handkerchief and placed it in the empty drawer that had been allocated to her. Meanwhile, Helen deftly fashioned the mysterious square of starched fabric into a neat cap.
    ‘I’ll never get the hang of that!’ Dora sighed as she watched her.
    ‘Of course you will. Everyone does.’ She placed the cap on Dora’s frizzy hair. ‘Have you brought any pins with you? It doesn’t matter, I’ve got some spares. Although you might have to do something about your hair.’ She frowned. ‘It’s supposed to be hidden at all times, and you’ll never get it all under your cap.’
    ‘I’ll have to shave my head to do that,’ Dora said mournfully.
    Helen Tremayne’s mouth curved slightly, the first hint of a smile Dora had seen. ‘I don’t suppose it will come to that.’ She jabbed a pin into the cap, narrowly missing Dora’s left ear. ‘There, that’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.’
    Dora checked her reflection in the scrap of mirror over the chest of drawers, and a bubble of excitement started to rise inside her. She could scarcely believe the transformation. In her smart striped dress, with her collar fastened tightly under her chin, and her hair almost hidden under her cap, she looked almost like a real nurse.
    ‘I’d best go, I’m due back on the ward in ten minutes.’ Helen’s voice broke into her daydream. She was on the other side of the room, ramming her feet back into her shoes. ‘Make sure you’re in the dining room for eighto’clock.’ She threw her cloak over her shoulders and hurried for the door. ‘It’s block three, this side of the courtyard. Out of the main doors, then turn right. And whatever you do, don’t be late.’

Chapter Five
    WHEN HELEN HAD gone, Dora quickly unpacked her belongings, shoving them into the empty drawer. She didn’t have much, just underwear and a