For one thing, why should I dream that he’d been murdered? And I felt that his murderer must still be nearby. That it was urgent to report his body. It’s that sense of urgency that makes it impossible to let go of the dream. Please, I don’t want it to be true. I just wish there was some way to settle this for good. Then I could tell myself to stop being silly. I’ve dealt with patients who were delirious, and their nightmares fade with time. Mine hasn’t. I need to know why.” I made a gesture of frustration, not certain how to explain the confusion I felt.

“Part of it is my fault. I should have told you when you first mentioned it that he was dead. That might have helped. But I thought it wasn’t the best time to give you such sad news.”

I smiled wryly. “There’s one solution. When I’m back in France, I’ll find Private Wilson and speak to him. He might be able to tell me why I thought I’d gone into that shed. There will be a simple explanation.”

I could already imagine Private Wilson saying in his gruff, kind way, Sister, you fell ill just after Lieutenant Benson died. You were that upset-small wonder you imagined-

“Oh!” I said, my hand flying to my mouth in bewilderment. “Simon-it was just after one of my patients had died that I fell ill. And when the body was removed, Private Wilson wanted me to see what he’d discovered in the shed. That part must be true. He wasn’t certain what should be done about it. It still doesn’t explain why I should have thought it was Major Carson.”

“A dead man amongst dead men,” he said after a moment. “Have you thought, Bess, that if there was someone in the shed who didn’t belong there, Private Wilson has already dealt with the problem? While you were ill. And if he didn’t, without your confirmation, whoever it was has long since been buried, murdered or not. If there was no identification with the body, finding it now will be nearly impossible in an unmarked grave. Sadly, there isn’t much that could be done.”