Ruth: Delhi outskirts, 1 September

Ruth disengaged her arm from that of the soldier who had escorted her and gathered her cotton skirts, fairly flying towards the stone building the officer had pointed out as the makeshift hospital.

Upon entering the hospital she almost gagged. She had never been faint hearted and had witnessed many unpleasant scenes during her time attached to the military but the stench that greeted her as she entered this place was completely overpowering and utterly vile, making her reach for her handkerchief and dry retch into it momentarily.

After a minute she recovered, sternly pulling herself together and telling herself that now was not the moment to permit failure. As her eyes accustomed to the darkness of the interior she took some time to pity the sorry inhabitants of this place, for it was no more a hospital than she was a doctor. Before her lay perhaps twenty men, lying upon bare stone floors. It was clear the army hadn't the provisions to provide the men with the comfort of a bed, and not one person was in sight to attend them, though they were all clearly in a very bad state. Most had severe battle injuries, arms or legs missing and their missing limbs had been bandaged with whatever was at hand.

Something had to be done about this place, and she would see that it was done, even if she had to do it herself. But first she had to find Harry.

She moved towards one of the men, who seemed lucid though he was clearly very drunk and held a whiskey bottle in his hands.

"Do you know the whereabouts of Major Pearce, sir?" she enquired politely, trying to ignore the reek of alcohol that eminated from him and the stump that had replaced what would have been his left leg which had now turned a horrifying gangrenous yellow- green colour. No wonder the poor man had taken to drinking.

He stared at her as if she were an apparition, then blinked. "Majorr Persssh," he repeated, slurring his words, "no idea, 'fraid."

Ruth noddled, then turned and bustled forward into the next room. She continued onwards, peering at face after face in the stifling warmth of the gloomy rooms, her palms becoming clammy and her heart starting to race. This place was too much for her and there was no trace of Harry. She picked up her skirts, scuttling forward, her eyes darting backwards and forwards along the rows of men. Those who were conscious watched her – some puzzled by her appearance, some cried out for her to help them or to bring them water, others regarded her with hostility. However terrifying she found this place she resolved that she would help them once she had found Harry.

Finally, in the third room she came to she found there was a doctor in attendance. A tired looking man in his sixties with grey hair and spectacles who turned and regarded her with surprise when she entered the room. "I'm afraid this is no place for a lady," he began, his voice brisque yet sympathetic.

"I'm looking for Major Harry Pearce. I am his private secretary and it is imperative that I locate him," she replied. She stood her ground, her chin upright and waited for his reply.

"That should take all of five seconds," he replied dryly, stepping aside to reveal that his patient was the said Major Pearce. Harry smiled up at her weakly, his face drained of colour. He looked sick and exhausted, but there was no mistaking that he was very much alive.

"Harry!," Ruth exclaimed, overtaken with the relief of seeing him. Major Pearce returned her greeting by pulling her towards the bed with his good arm and kissing her soundly on the lips, a gesture that she found completely unexpected and utterly overwhelming. After a minute she withdrew from his embrace, flustered by his public display of affection.

The Doctor watched them both calmly, and Ruth blushed, wondering what on earth she should say in this situation. He smiled back at her, looking nonplussed and then declared that he needed to go and check on another ward.

"How is your wound?" Ruth questioned anxiously, as Harry watched her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Healing nicely, so the Doctor says," Harry replied evenly. "I should be out of this dammed place in a few days."

"Harry this place is just dreadful," Ruth replied, shivering, "why is there no one here to look after everyone?"

"The other men told me there were several men around until a couple of days ago and then some fell ill and a couple of the others abandoned us here when they heard that a fight was brewing and left in search of the action. Doctor Barnet is a good man but he can't take care of sixty men by himself. And I've only been myself this past day so I'm afraid I haven't been much good until now."

"I've a mind to put this place in order," Ruth responded, her eyes burning with evangelical zeal at the thought of taking control of the hospital, "Will you issue me with instructions to round up some men to come and help here?"

"I was thinking of doing exactly that," Harry replied. "And I think you ought to be promoted to a ranking officer Miss Evershed," he teased.

"I suppose now that you've taken the Hospital in hand there's only one question left," he added casually.

"Oh?" Ruth replied, wondering what he meant.

"Will you marry me Miss Evershed?," Harry asked, taking her hand in his and smiling up at her, as she looked back at him with astonishment.