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huskily. ‘A live birth is always a miracle.’

      For a moment she didn’t appear aware of her surroundings. Seconds later she cleared her throat and became totally professional again as very gently she handed the baby to her patient.

      ‘Here’s your daughter, Josephine.’

      Now it was Josephine’s turn to shed tears of joy. ‘A daughter! After four boys she’s very welcome. I shall call her Chantal, Doctor. You’ve been so kind to me. I couldn’t have got through this without you.’

      ‘Oh, I think you could,’ Chantal said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue as she turned away from the joyful scene of mother and baby together.

      Suddenly she was aware that Michel was beside her, his hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you OK, Chantal?’

      ‘I’m fine.’ she said firmly, turning to look up into his eyes. ‘It’s always an emotional experience when a baby is born, isn’t it?’

      He was holding onto his own mixed emotions now. He had to get a grip on himself where Chantal was concerned. She disturbed him too much and at this moment he wasn’t sure why.

      A midwife came into the cubicle. ‘I came as soon as I could but— Oh, I see I was too late. Sorry about that but we’re very busy in Obstetrics at the moment.’

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Chantal told her. ‘I’ll hand Josephine and her daughter over to you now. I haven’t done the postnatal checks yet. This is a fifth baby and Josephine was involved in a car crash earlier.’

      ‘I’ll leave you to it, Chantal,’ Michel said, as he heard her starting on the patient’s history with the midwife. ‘I’ll check on what’s happening to the other new patients. May I suggest you take a break before you work on your next patient?’

      She glanced at him enquiringly. What was he implying?

      ‘It’s your first day back on full-time duties,’ he said, quietly before turning away and leaving the cubicle.

      After filling the midwife in with Josephine’s details she left her patient and the new baby in her care. Josephine clung to her hand. ‘Do you have to leave me, Dr Chantal?’

      ‘I’m afraid so. But you’ll be well looked after when you’re taken to the postnatal ward.’

      She bent down to say goodbye to the baby. The little rosebud mouth was moving as if acknowledging her. She could feel tears prickling behind her eyes as she swiftly became professional again and left the cubicle.

      She’d taken Michel’s advice and had a short break in the staff coffee bar before she returned to report to him in Emergency. He strode across to meet her as she came in through the swing doors.

      ‘Everything OK? How’s the ankle?’

      ‘It’s bearing up very well, thank you. You seem to have everything under control here.’

      ‘Yes, we had six patients from the crash. The rest had been allocated to another hospital in this area. Josephine was one of the ones who was totally blameless apparently. So we won’t have the police coming in to interview her.’

      ‘Thank goodness for that. Josephine needs rest now to enjoy her new baby.’ She heard her voice crack with emotion as she spoke and hoped Michel hadn’t noticed.

      Michel heard the emotional involvement expressed in Chantal’s voice and wondered once more what had happened to her before she’d joined the staff in February.

      ‘So you’re fit to work again now, are you?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Well, there’s a young boy waiting to be seen in cubicle two. His mother is with him.’

      ‘Fine.’ Chantal turned away and went to check on her next patient. She found a small boy who’d just arrived after falling on his way to school. He was crying as he clung to his mother’s hand.

      ‘Be quiet, Albert. The doctor’s here now.’

      Chantal looked down at her patient on the treatment table. He was shivering with shock. She spread a cosy lightweight blanket over him. He stopped shivering and looked up at her enquiringly with wide trusting blue eyes, deciding that this lady doctor was OK. Quite pretty, actually. Nice teeth when she smiled at him, which she was doing now.

      Chantal glanced down at the notes that had just been given to her.

      ‘Albert, can you tell me what happened when you were walking to school?’

      ‘There was this dog, you see,’ he began tentatively.

      Chantal smiled. ‘I see. Was it a big dog?’

      ‘Oh, it was enormous! But I’m not scared of dogs, am I, Mum?’

      ‘Not a big boy like you, Albert. Now, tell the nice lady doctor how you ran much too quickly when you chased the dog and tripped up on that kerbstone.’

      ‘So where did you hurt yourself when you fell?’

      ‘All down my leg.’ He pulled back the side of the blanket to reveal an improvised bandage of old cloths. ‘You should have seen the blood, Doctor.’

      ‘I can see the bloodstains peeping through the bandage, Albert. Who put the bandage on?’

      ‘The lady with the dog. She took me into her house and told me I was a naughty boy for chasing him.’

      Chantal could see more tears threatening. ‘Mind if I have a look?’ She was already peeling off the cloths very carefully so that they wouldn’t pull on his skin. ‘Oh, yes, now I see the problem. Don’t worry, Albert, I’ll soon have that sorted.’

      ‘What are you going to do to me? You’re not going to chop it off, are you? My friend’s dad had to go into hospital to have his leg chopped off. He walks with crutches now. I don’t mind having crutches but I’d like to keep my leg on if you don’t mind. You see, I play football.’

      She gave him a reassuring smile. ‘I’m simply going to mend the cut that’s appeared in the skin. Can you feel this nice soothing liquid I’m painting all over the cut?’

      ‘What’s that for?’

      ‘That’s cleaning the wound and—’

      ‘Have I got a wound? Like a soldier?’

      ‘Yes, and you’re behaving like a brave little soldier for me. I’ve just put some painkiller on it so it won’t hurt much. Not that you’ll need it as you’re such a brave boy. How old are you, Albert?’

      ‘Five and a half,’ he said proudly.

      ‘You’re a big boy for your age.’

      Then she fell silent as she focussed on the task in hand.

      ‘There, all done. I’ve put some stitches in so that—’

      ‘Stitches? How many?’

      She solemnly counted them one by one.

      ‘Six.’ She was spraying the whole area of affected leg now.

      ‘Six? Wait till I get back to school and show everybody!’

      ‘Doctor, do you think I should keep him at home today?’ his mother asked anxiously.

      Chantal replied that one day at home would be advisable to give the healing process a good start. She explained how to treat the little boy for the next ten days before his mother took him to see their family doctor who would arrange for the stitches to be taken out.

      ‘Oh, don’t they dissolve by themselves?’

      ‘Not this kind of stitches. Because the wound is quite wide and in an area of the leg that will get a lot of movement from an active boy like Albert, it’s advisable to put very strong stitches in.’

      She pulled back the curtain of her cubicle as she

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