Christopher Devon had one last patient to see at the surgery before making his house calls. He was at the start of a locum week in a practice in Romsey and was surprised when a young mother he’d known from his Winchester surgery walked in with her five-year-old daughter. Surprised and thrown a little off balance.

‘Mrs Fraser. How lovely to see you. But what are you doing down here?’

The mother looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Oh, we moved doctor, shortly after you did.’

‘Hello Daisy. How are you?’ asked Christopher.

Daisy managed a weak smile before attempting to hide behind her mother’s legs.

‘Well, how nice to see you both. It must be almost a year since I saw you. Goodness me, Daisy, you have grown, haven’t you?’

Daisy, emerging from the other side of her mother with a thumb wedged into her mouth, nodded without looking at him.

‘And what can I do for you, Mrs Fraser?’

‘Nothing really, Doctor. I spoke to reception and they said I could just pop in after surgery to say thank you.’

‘Oh?’

‘About Richard.’

‘But…’

‘I know it all went wrong in the end, but I know you did your best. You made his life as comfortable as you could. We just wanted to say thank you for all you did. And we never got a chance to, what with you leaving.’

‘No. No, I’m sorry about that.’

Mrs Fraser was in her early thirties. A good-looking woman who had been married to a local farmer. She was always polite and courteous. Deferential to her doctor after the manner of many patients in a country practice. Her husband had been a strapping farmer’s lad who had taken on the business himself when his father had retired from their dairy farm near Alresford. Then he had developed kidney trouble. Christopher hoped they would be able to find him a new one. But they had not. Two years later Richard Fraser died, leaving a widow and three children under the age of seven.

Christopher was back there for a moment, back in the bleakness of it all. Remembering the frustration and the anger he felt with himself for not being able to make a difference. For not finding Richard Fraser a kidney and for not taking more of a stand against those who were unable or unwilling to help. If he had done, wouldn’t Richard Fraser be alive now? Mrs Fraser cleared her throat, and he came back to the present with a start. ‘But are things looking up now that you’ve moved down here?’

‘Yes, thank you, Doctor.’

‘So where are you living now?’

‘In Wellow. One of the little villages. We’re on our own at the moment.’

‘I see.’ Christopher tried not to appear prying.

‘But not for long. Richard’s cousin has become a very good friend. Very helpful, you know, kind.’

‘Oh. That’s good.’