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Smythe here and show her where she can clean up.’
    His gaze swung lazily round the group. ‘Oh! Okey dokey. Sorry. Didn’t mean to stop the progress of medical science. Uh, I’ll catch you later, Denise.’ He returned his head and Cynthia followed him at a rate bordering on trot. I handed tissues to Denise who seemed to have perked up. This doctor’s visit was obviously a healthier option than ours.
    â€˜That Dr Welch’s a lovely man.’ Denise twiddled an auburn ringlet then laid it carefully on a shoulder, thin as a chicken wing. ‘He’s so sympathetic about me having all this pregnancy trouble, you’d never credit he’s a single fella himself and when he takes off blood you wouldn’t ever know there was a needle there.’ For a moment, she was almost enthusiastic.
    â€˜That’s good,’ said Miss Harvey in an unimpressed way and advanced, rubbing her hands. ‘And it’s even better that you’re allowing these budding midwives loose on that tummy of yours and, may I just say, what a neat one it is.’
    Denise rolled her eyes, slid down the bed and bared her stomach. ‘I think it’s gross but help yourselves.’
    We craned round like avid telly watchers whilst Miss Harvey got hearty. ‘What nonsense! Look, class, a perfect shape. And just think, Mrs Campbell, when you’re as old as me you can tell your grandchildren how you played a big part in the future careers of a group of students.’
    â€˜It’ll be bad enough being a mother,’ said Denise, refusing to be cheered. ‘I don’t know how I’ll cope.’
    Her eyes wandered the ceiling as if searching for an exit strategy and she spoke as if she had detached herself from her body, which seemed an incredible feat given so much going on inside it.
    â€˜Lovely! And look! The baby’s lying in a perfect position too. I can feel its spine right here.’ Miss Harvey placed her hand on one side of the baby bump and pushed whilst her fingers played along the other in an exploratory way. ‘Perfect! Ah, splendid! Lying just how it should be! And right here above the supra pubic area you can feel Junior’s head.’ Miss Harvey’s pincer-like grasp seemed unduly firm and rather personal, and when she started wriggling her hand in a pendulum moving way, I expected Denise to protest but she merely gave a bored yawn.
    The tutor took a metal instrument shaped like an old-fashioned bicycle horn from her pocket. ‘This is a foetal stethoscope and it’s for hearing the baby’s heart.’ She placed the trumpet-shaped bit on Denise’s belly and listened at the other end with the concentration of an eavesdropping telephonist.
    â€˜Excellent.’ She gave an approving nod. ‘Doing nicely, thank you, and happy for the class to listen in. Come along, Nurse Macpherson, see what you can hear.’
    I took the stethoscope, aimed for the spot recently vacated and tuned in. It was like a radio station with interference. Denise on the outside might be comatose but she’d plenty action inside. I listened harder, then over food-processing noises, came, like hurrying footsteps , the sound of quick regular beats. Either Denise had swallowed a time bomb or I was hearing a baby’s heart.
    Seeing my surprised and pleased look, Miss Harvey said, ‘Right! Now see if you can find the baby’s head.’
    Imitating Miss Harvey’s grasp and reminded of a lucky dip, I foraged and at last found a ball-like shape.
    â€˜Amazing!’ was the best I could do but must have looked enthused enough for the class to move forward, anxious to have a go.
    â€˜It might be harder to find the spine. See what you can do.’
    I tried but only found small knobbly lumps.
    â€˜Hey, Denise! You’ve certainly got a mixed bag in there.’ I bent down to level with her, trying to engage her interest. ‘Mind you, I’d a bit of