carriages and were told to stand at ease while they were awaiting orders. So they all sat down on the platform—blimey, they’d been on their pins for long enough and it was obvious where they’d just come back from. Then along came these commuter types, all top hats and creases in their trousers. ‘These men are a disgrace,’ said one of the toffs. Then another went on about how the soldiers were nothing more than tramps. Now that’s discrimination—when you look down your nose at the very men who fought to make sure you could still go to work in your tidy, warm office. That’s the trouble with people—they cherish their comforts, but they don’t want to know where they come from. The ladies like their cheap Indian cotton bedspreads, but they’d turn their noses up at the women who sit there doing the weaving for next to nothing.” He folded his arms and sat back in his chair.
There was silence for a few seconds, during which Maisie looked at Sandra, and motioned with her head towards the door. Sandra nodded.
“I think I’ll just nip across to the dairy. What with all that tea drinking, we’ve run out of milk.”
“Right you are, Sandra, thank you. Remember to reimburse yourself from the petty cash.”
When Sandra had left the room, Maisie sat for a while, waiting. She watched Billy as he leaned forward, gazing at his feet. During the attack that had led to his absence from work, he had sustained serious head injuries, though they had healed sufficiently for him to return to work. At first it had seemed that all was well—life had calmed down at home for Billy, and their two boys seemed to be putting their mother’s difficulties behind them. Doreen Beale had become mentally unstable following the death of her youngest child, a girl named Lizzie. It was a psychiatric condition exacerbated by Billy’s ill-health. But in the past few weeks Maisie had noticed a new pattern of behavior in Billy. His moods could change in a matter of seconds, from happy-go-lucky one minute, to morose and argumentative the next. That his war wounds still troubled him on occasion was obvious, but it was rare for Billy to lose his good temper. His respect for Maisie had never been in question—she was the nurse who had helped save his life in the war. Now she felt a confusion at the center of his being—in the way he sat, in his facial expression, and in the moods of melancholy laced with anger that rendered him as volatile as a grenade without a pin.
“Don’t think I don’t know, Miss. Sandra went out so you could have a word with me.”
“She has been here long enough to know that you’re not yourself, and that I would want to talk to you about whatever’s troubling you.” Maisie’s voice was soft. She was once more careful with her words, as if weighing them for their potential to inflame the situation. Billy was distressed enough already.
“I don’t know why you have me here, to be honest.” Billy folded his arms across his chest.
Maisie did not miss the move, knowing he was protecting his heart.
“I have you here because I trust you, Billy. You know that.” She paused. “Now, perhaps you could describe what happened when you became agitated towards the end of our meeting here with Mr. Pramal, and when you became short-tempered with Sandra.”
“I . . . I don’t know.” Billy’s hands moved, one to either side of his head. “I don’t know, Miss and it’s—oh, nothing,” He folded his hands in front of his chest again.
“It’s not nothing. Your well-being is not nothing.” Another pause. “Do your best, Billy. Try to describe what happens.”
“Oh, Miss, all that describing business. I don’t know. I just need to pull up my socks and not let you down. I got a bit angry, that’s all it was.”
Maisie was silent, watching Billy. His foot, drawn back against the chair; his heel tapping. Tap-tap-tap-tap. The agitation was mounting again.
“Yes, you got a bit angry. But that’s not all it was. What went through your mind?”
“Well, I just want to snap, don’t I?” His voice was raised. “I just want to say, ‘Miss, I can’t do this job anymore, because I can’t keep my thoughts in my head.’ ” He pressed his fingers to his temple. “I’ve hardly done anything on that case about the missing boy, because I don’t know what to do next. I can’t