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now stable, she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d have a thing or two to say to him when he was discharged! In the meantime, she made a mental note to visit him and take him something to cheer him up.
    Her next patient was a young woman, thirty years of age, whom Ally remembered from her recent pregnancy.
    ‘Hello, Jenny, how are the twins?’
    Jenny Monroe smiled and rolled her eyes. ‘Hard work and getting harder. They can’t crawl yet but they’ve discovered that they can roll everywhere so I can’t leave them alone for a minute.’
    ‘I remember it well.’ Ally sat back in her chair and laughed, her mind scooting back to when Charlie had been that age. ‘Nightmare!’ Only it hadn’t been a nightmare. Not really. In many ways it had been wonderful, except for all the other traumas…
    ‘My mother’s got them for me for a few hours…’ Jenny fidgeted slightly. ‘I’ve got this thing on my leg and I’ve read so much lately about skin cancer it’s been worrying me.’
    ‘Let me have a look.’
    Ally waited while Jenny pulled down her leggings, and then bent to examine the mole on her patient’s leg. Alarm bells rang instantly in her mind. It had a jagged, uneven edge and was a mixture of black and brown, both signs highly suggestive of malignant melanoma.
    ‘Are you a sunbather, Jenny?’ She rummaged in her drawer for a ruler and measured the mole carefully.
    Jenny looked sheepish. ‘Well, not regularly, Dr McGuire, but I love the sun and I love to be tanned. It makes you feel better, doesn’t it?’
    It depended on your skin type, Ally thought wryly. When you were very fair, as she was, it was better to stay out of the sun altogether and settle for looking pale and interesting.
    Ally frowned. ‘Remind me where you work.’
    ‘I’m a bank clerk.’
    ‘And you holiday abroad?’
    ‘Oh, yes!’ Jenny smiled. ‘Mike and I live for our two weeks of sunshine!’
    An indoor job all year round and two weeks a year sunbathing—the very worst combination.
    Jenny watched her curiously. ‘Why are you measuring it?’
    Ally hesitated and made a note on her pad. ‘You were quite right to come and see me, Jenny, because suspicious moles do need to be checked out.’
    ‘And this is suspicious?’
    ‘It certainly needs to come off.’
    Jenny swallowed. ‘Do you think it’s cancer?’
    Ally hesitated. ‘It’s impossible to say, without removing it and examining the cells under a microscope.’
    ‘But you think it might be, don’t you?’ Jenny probed, her eyes wide and anxious.
    ‘It’s possible,’ Ally admitted, ‘but we need to arrange for a specialist to remove the mole and have a proper look at it.’
    ‘And if it is?’ Jenny swallowed. ‘What then?’
    Ally reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Jenny, it may be nothing. Why don’t we wait for the results before we discuss the options?’
    Jenny took a deep breath. ‘OK. How long will I have to wait for an appointment? I won’t sleep a wink until I know…’
    ‘They’re very quick,’ Ally assured her, reaching for her hospital phone directory. ‘I’ll phone Mr Gordon, the plastic surgeon, today and he should see you this week.’
    ‘Plastic surgeon? I thought it would be a dermatologist.’
    ‘When it comes to removing moles it can be either. Mr Gordon is very good.’
    Jenny gave her a shaky smile. ‘Well, at least I won’t have to wait long. Will I have to stay in hospital?’
    Ally shook her head. ‘No. They’ll remove it under local anaesthetic as a day case and then ask you to go back for the results.’
    Jenny nodded and stood up. ‘Oh, well! Nothing to do but wait, then. Thanks, Dr McGuire.’
    Ally watched her go and felt suddenly depressed. She was sure the mole would turn out to be malignant, and Jenny was a young woman with two small children…
    Forcing those thoughts away, she phoned Mr Gordon’s secretary and arranged for an urgent referral. Then she glanced at her watch, gasping as she saw the time. She