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“I’ve brought mine with me from Paris,” said Mrs. Barrett, smiling at Emmie. Of course she loved Emmie. Everyone loved Emmie. Kate didn’t understand how Emmie didn’t see that. “Back to business. . . . We’re doing all we can to press the authorities for passes so our girls can get here from Paris.”

“Is there any word on when Dr. Clare will arrive?” asked Julia.

“Her trunks came today,” Emmie offered. “Eight of them. And a folding dispensary table.”

“Dr. Clare is still waiting for her pass, but we expect her momentarily. In the meantime . . .” Mrs. Barrett looked very pleased with herself. “I’ve arranged for a doctor from the Red Cross hospital in Nesle to visit three times a week to see patients. Dr. Stapleton of Johns Hopkins.”

Julia’s face was roughly the color of the whitewash Anne had been using on the cellar walls.

“There’s no need for that,” said Kate, and was aware of just how harsh and ugly her voice sounded, how rude and ungrateful. “Dr. Pruyn can manage. Dr. Pruyn has been managing. Brilliantly.”

Mrs. Barrett regarded Kate tolerantly. “Miss Moran, the point is not to manage. The point is to make everything go as smoothly as possible, with as little difficulty as possible. Dr. Pruyn shouldn’t have to manage.”

She had no idea, thought Kate wildly. She just thought Kate was being difficult. And maybe Kate was being difficult, but there were reasons, if only Mrs. Barrett had bothered to stop and ask. She’d read the reports and spoken to the members who had visited in Paris and thought she knew all there was to know, but that wasn’t the half of it.

Mrs. Barrett smiled at Julia, clearly misinterpreting Julia’s white lips and set face. “It’s no reflection on your skill, Dr. Pruyn. There’s far too much work here for one doctor. The Unit was always meant to have at least two doctors on staff.”

Julia pushed up from her chair. “I need to go back to the infirmary.”

Straight-backed, Julia stalked out of the barrack, letting the wind slam the door shut behind her.

Mrs. Barrett watched her go with concern. “And that’s just the problem. You’ve all been working yourselves sick. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it—or how necessary it was! But now you’ve laid the groundwork, we can all learn from what you’ve already done, and make improvements going forward. You were the pioneers—but now we’ve entered a new stage of our grand project. We don’t have to create anymore, but refine.”

“I need to go refine the mess in the cellar,” said Nell, hopping up from her chair. “Are you coming, Alice?”

“I’ll go too,” said Emmie, not looking at Kate.

Kate would have followed, but Mrs. Barrett forestalled her. “Miss Moran? May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course.” She was worried about Julia. She was worried about Emmie. But she couldn’t say no. “I didn’t mean to be difficult during the meeting. It’s just that we’ve been here some time and we’ve developed habits and ways of doing things.”

“You’ve all worked wonders,” said Mrs. Barrett, “and particularly you. I’ve seen your system of reports. It’s a thing of beauty.”

“Er, thank you?” said Kate, taken off guard.

“You’ve been a tower of strength. To take on the running of the Unit like that—it was unconscionable that it was all simply dropped on you like that.”

“Dr. Stringfellow did her bit.”

The corners of Mrs. Barrett’s eyes crinkled. “Ava Stringfellow is a brilliant doctor and an absolutely ruthless pinochle player but she had no business being director. And you needn’t jump to her defense! I’m repeating exactly what she told me. She was insistent that the Unit only survived—and thrived!—these past four months because you took on more than any human being could be expected to accomplish.”

“Oh,” said Kate. She’d been expecting to be admonished, not praised. “It wasn’t just me. We all did our bit.”

“You did your bit and about ten other people’s,” said Mrs. Barrett, and Kate felt the full force of her charm. “Which is why I wanted to ask . . .”

The table shook again, a coffee cup overturning. Kate caught it just in time. “Yes?”

Mrs. Barrett winced. “I do wish they wouldn’t do that. Now, what was I saying? Oh yes, I wanted to ask . . . my dear, when was the last time you took a few days away?”

“I haven’t,” said Kate dumbly. She thought about it. “That is, I went to Amiens for a bath and shampoo two weeks ago. Or maybe it was three weeks ago.”

Mrs. Barrett looked at her closely. Something about her expression reminded Kate, strongly, of her mother. “And you did the Unit’s shopping while you were there, didn’t you? And were still back before supper.”

“Just after,” said Kate, feeling like she’d lost control of the situation somehow.

Mrs. Barrett nodded. “As your director, I direct you to take two weeks in Paris. And to spend at least two days doing nothing at all.”

Kate stared at her in mute horror. But there was the planting, and Julia, and Emmie—