‘If you need to use a phone, I can arrange it,’ Libby said quietly. They had plenty of parents on the ward who were separated or alone so she knew how hard it was when a child became ill.

‘We’ll see her in Theatre.’ With a friendly nod to Mrs Palmer and Melanie, Dave Jenner left the room with his team behind him.

‘You and I are going to play hairdressers,’ Libby said cheerfully, reaching into her pocket for a band. ‘I’m going to tie that lovely blonde hair of yours back. Is that OK?’

Melanie nodded and looked at Libby. ‘You’ve got very long hair. Like a princess.’

Libby smiled as she checked that the child’s name and hospital number were on her wrist strap. ‘That’s me. Princess Libby.’ She gathered all the notes and charts together and finally plucked up the courage to look at Andreas. ‘Shall we take her straight down?’

He nodded. ‘I’ve done the consent form and everything else is ready.’ He looked at Mrs Palmer. ‘Try not to worry. Mr Jenner is an exceptionally good surgeon.’ He sat down on the bed next to Melanie and took her hand.

‘Right, Melanie, this is what we’re going to do. There’s something in your tummy that’s making it bad, so we’re going to take it away and then you’ll feel better.’

Melanie stared at him, round eyed. ‘Will it hurt?’

Andreas shook his head. ‘No, because you’re going to be asleep for a short time. And if it’s sore when you wake up, we’ll give you some medicine.’ He glanced up as a porter arrived in the doorway, ready to take Melanie to Theatre. ‘Ah—this nice man is going to wheel you downstairs now.’

He stood up and watched while Libby flicked the brake on the bed with her foot and manoeuvred it carefully out of the door of the side ward.

Melanie’s face crumpled. ‘I want Mummy!’

‘Well, of course you do,’ Libby said quickly, moving out of the way so that the child could see her mother. ‘She’s right here, sweetheart.’

Libby glanced at Mrs Palmer who was white-faced and tense. ‘You can stay with her in the anaesthetic room until she falls asleep if you like.’

Mrs Palmer swallowed. ‘Yes—yes, I’d like that.’

She stayed close to her daughter as they wheeled the bed into the lift and pressed the button for Theatre.

In the anaesthetic room a blond man was preparing things for the operation and Libby stiffened.

Philip.

Why did it have to be Philip who was the anaesthetist?

‘This is Melanie Palmer,’ she said coolly, her tone detached and professional. ‘Melanie, this is Dr Graham. He’s going to help you go to sleep.’

‘Hi, there, Melanie.’ Philip smiled at the little girl with the false cheeriness that people so often adopted with children. Libby couldn’t help comparing him with Andreas who was a natural with children. He was honest and straightforward with them and had a warmth and strength that they seemed to find reassuring.