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and dark and encourage him to drink as much liquid as you can. Water, Ribena, doesn’t matter. You’ll notice a rash appear in the next day or so. That’s normal. Stomach pain, diarrhoea is normal. The high temperature is normal. But if it stays high, beyond Friday, call and I’ll be out to check on him.’
    â€˜Can’t you give him some medicine? Or some of those anti things?’
    Jean shook her head. ‘Won’t help. It’s a nasty disease and he’ll need the best care you can give. But most likely in a week or so’s time he’ll be well on the way to recovery.’
    In the course of the day, Jean made house calls to two more mothers with four children between them, and gave each of them the same advice, explaining that measles washighly infectious and warning them to keep other children away.
    By the end of the week, she had seen several dozen children and the town was in the grip of an epidemic. When another doctor went down with the disease, she took on his calls too; her evenings were filled with the sharp cries and racking coughs of sick children. She was exhausted and exhilarated.
    â€˜It’s blown away my winter blues,’ she said to Jim.
    â€˜I’m sure they’re delighted to be helping you out.’
    She swiped at him. ‘I mean that I’m good at this. It’s what I was trained for.’
    â€˜Mrs Sandringham moved in?’
    Jean nodded. ‘For now. She’s a saint. Hot food and warm house when I come in at night. Her humming. Some cheerful noise.’
    She reached over and tapped Jim’s hand.
    â€˜Your girls all right?’
    â€˜Right as rain.’
    â€˜It’s a horrid disease, Jim. Lock them up for now if you have to.’
    The telephone rang.
    â€˜Dr Markham here,’ Jean said, and when the voice at the other end spoke, her shoulders slumped.
    It was a woman’s voice, its telephone cadence high and tinny, urgent. Jean shut her eyes and for nearly a minute the voice went on. Finally, opening them again and squaring her shoulders, as though for a fight, Jean broke into the stream.
    â€˜You’re doing everything you can, and as I said last night, you’re doing it very well and …’
    She rolled her eyes at Jim.
    â€˜No, it is only the measles,’ she said in a voice which sounded almost the parody of calm. ‘It would be no wonder if Connie caught them too. But at least you know nowwhat to expect. High temperature, tummy upset, rash … No, there’s nothing else I can do. I know she’s only little but …’
    Following another spate of sound, Jean compromised.
    â€˜I’ll call by in a couple of days, Monday afternoon. She might be through the worst of it by then, with any luck. You’re doing a grand job. Keep it up. Excuse me now. Yes.’
    And then she brought the conversation to a close, banging her fist quietly on the table for emphasis.
    â€˜I think we’ll find her temperature is on its way down by then,’ she said. ‘Yes. A couple of days. Afternoon.’
    She put the telephone down hard on its cradle with a snap of plastic.
    â€˜Mrs Bewick,’ she said. She slumped into her chair. ‘She called yesterday, too, to tell me about her little girl. She didn’t sound like a very happy mite, but that’s how it is.’
    â€˜Measles?’
    â€˜Four children, gone down like ninepins, eldest to youngest. Three boys first, and now Connie. Only girl and her mother’s pride and joy. Father’s away, working on the roads, so Mrs Bewick’s exhausted. I don’t think that helps.’
    â€˜No family to help out? Neighbours?’
    â€˜No family near by. Also she’s a bit strange. Won’t let anyone else do for them. Calls me, and calls me out, all the time, but doesn’t even like me examining them.’
    â€˜You sound fed up.’
    â€˜I’m tired is all, and she’s a worrier. She always