Four weeks later, Ada sat at her desk in the Receiving Room. It was at first light, and she had not slept well at all. She flicked through her diary, counting passing days and weeks on her fingers. She knew she was late this month, but now she was very late. This month she couldn't shrug it off as stress.

She had told no-one of her attack. She hadn't dared. If she had gone to the police, the vague description she could have given of the man would match half the men in the East End. And how on earth could she have told Matron? She was breaking every rule by being out there in the first place. She'd rather hoped that she wouldn't have to.

"Morning Sister Russell!"

The handsome face of Millais Culpin appeared at her office door.

"Good morning Dr Culpin," she replied with as much chirp as she could muster, "you're here very early."

"As are you Sister" he replied, "couldn't sleep a wink last night, is all well?"

"Uh," Ada stuttered.

Perplexed by his colleague's unusual hesitancy, Dr Culpin walked further into her office, closed the door behind him, and sat himself in front of her. He repeated his question.

"Well," Ada answered. She paused, momentarily aware that she was blushing. "Pull yourself together" she thought "you're Sister."

"Other than the obvious causes, the menopause, and, pregnancy, what might cause a women's menstrual cycle to become, well, not there." She flushed scarlet once more.

"All sorts Sister," Dr Culpin answered matter-of-factly, "stress, hormone fluctuations, losing weight, it's nothing too much to worry about. Have you had any pain, or signs of infection?"

"No, nothing," Ada replied. Her stomach backflipped. She hadn't even considered the possibility of having gained an infection.

"Things like this happen to a lot of women Sister, things usually right themselves in a few months."

"Thank you, Dr Culpin."

"Any pain, or irregular bleeding, or anything like that, then make sure you tell someone."

"I will, Dr Culpin."

"Very good Sister," Dr Culpin smiled as he breezed out of the office.

Ada sighed as her gaze returned to her diary. "It could be nothing," she thought. "Ooooh, hot buttered toast. And marmalade. No, wait, strawberry jam." Suddenly remembering she hadn't had breakfast, she really hadn't fancied eating anything when she first got up, Ada thought nothing could be better than piles and piles of toast.

"Hungry are we Sister?"

Ada looked up from her fifth slice of toast and stared somewhat puzzled at Probationer Fletcher.

"You'd have thought you hadn't eaten in a week" Ethel giggled.

"I just really fancied toast this morning," Ada responded defensively.

"We're not judging" Nurse Ansett added, "it's a nice change, you've been looking so tired and drained for the last few weeks."

Ada's heart hit her stomach. She had been tired and feeling under the weather.

"I'm quite we-" Ada began, but as she tried to finish, her stomach lurched. "Excuse me" she managed to stammer as she ran out of the door. Barely making the lavatory, she was suddenly reacquainted with her pile of toast.

"Sister, is everything alright?"

Ada wiped her mouth as she turned to see several concerned faces peering round the lavatory door. She drew herself up, brushed down her uniform, raised her head proudly, and walked past her colleagues without uttering a single word. As she reached the end of the corridor, she could have sworn she'd heard Ethel's impersonation of her, curtly reminding the others of the dangers of overindulgence.

A worrying trend began to develop over the next few weeks. Waves of nausea, regardless of her food consumption, washed over Ada morning to night. Her cycle had not made a return and she was becoming increasingly desperate. Too many things were adding up and the answer that they were making was not one Ada wanted to even contemplate. The lifelong dread of waking up to blooded sheets was something she prayed for each night.

Ten weeks after she was attacked Ada had almost accepted the inevitable. She was constantly exhausted, she'd had to run from the Receiving Room to her pre-positioned, but well hidden, bucket on far too many occasions, and she had not experienced even the slightest inkling of a cramp or a bleed. When Dr Ingrams had turned somewhat sharply and elbowed her in the bosom, she had never felt pain like it. She was sitting in the Receiving Room, mulling over what was happening to her, when Nurse Granger appeared in front of her. Ada jumped.

"Sorry, I startled you Sister."

"Not to worry Nurse Granger," Sister Russell replied, "I was in my own little world for a moment."

"Matron wants to see you."

"Thank you Nurse Granger," she replied, getting to her feet a little too quickly, making her head spin.

Ada climbed the stairs to Matron Luckes' office. She brushed down her uniform and straightened her cap, before knocking gently upon the door.

"Come in!"

"Good morning Matron" Ada chirped as she entered.

"Ah, Sister Russell, are you well?"

"Yes, very well, thank you Matron."

"Good," Matron replied eyeing Sister Russell suspiciously. "She cannot know," Ada thought, "even she cannot know this."

"Now," Matron continued, her gaze less penetrating, "how is the Receiving Room? Do you have sufficient staffing to meet demand? We may be getting another doctor, a former Forces medic apparently, at least he'll know how to deal with wounds."

"Um, well," Sister Russell replied, "as much help as we can get would be greatly appreciated, we're at capacity every day."

"Are you getting enough rest?" Matron asked kindly, "I've heard you've been under the weather."

"Women's troubles," Ada replied non-committedly, "it will right itself I'm sure."

"If you need to see a Doctor…" Matron began.

"I know where to find one!" Sister Russell replied.

Tired of the interrogation, she stood up sharply and turned away from Matron's desk. Immediately she regretted her decision. The room began to spin, her vision blurred, and she blacked out.

Ada came to several minutes later to find Matron Luckes sitting on the floor next to her, sponging her face with one hand and stroking the back of her hand with the other.

"I'm sorry," Sister Russell began.

"A couple of week's bed rest for you, Sister, it will do you good."

Ada could only nod and weakly squeak in reply.

Matron picked Ada up off the floor, placed an arm around her waist, and guided her gently back to the nurse's home. To Ada's great surprise, Matron followed her into her room, sat her on her bed and began to loosen her clothing. To her greater embarrassment, her protests went unheard, and before she knew it, Matron had redressed her in her night things and wrapped her blanket around her.

"You are off duty for the next two weeks" Matron announced, "if there is no improvement in your condition, I will have to send for a doctor to carry out a full examination."

"Yes Matron," Ada whimpered.

Matron left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

"She knows," Ada panicked, "she undressed me to check how far along I am. In two weeks time," she paused and counted on her fingers, "I'll be fourteen weeks gestation." She stroked her still-flat stomach, gently protecting the child she knew must lay there. She couldn't have this baby. But to try to get rid of it was unthinkable. Illegal. Nursing Anna had taught her that to kill the child, you have to practically kill the mother. Perhaps someone would adopt the baby. A kindly vicar and his wife, in a country parish perhaps. A tear pooled in the corner of her eye. She'd never be able to give up the baby. Conceived, though they were, through lust at its most cruel, the baby was hers.

"I'm a mother" she whispered defiantly to the empty room, "A mother."