Thursday 4th March 1993 Afternoon surgery 16:10

My Dad picked up the telephone. “Good afternoon, Mrs Curtis. You’re ringing about Kayleigh?”
“Yes, I am. She’s been asleep since she came back from school, doctor.”
My Dad looked at his watch. It was ten minutes past four.
“Has she been unwell in the last couple of days?”
“No, not really, doctor.”
“Has she had a cold or a cough?”
“No, doctor.”
“Do you think she has had a temperature?”
“She doesn’t seem hot but I haven’t got a thermometer.”
“Right . . . is she eating and drinking?”
“She hasn’t had anything to eat since lunchtime. She had a drink before she went to sleep.”
“Has she been sick?”
“No, doctor.”
“Has she had any diarrhoea?”
“No, doctor.”
“Right . . . mmm . . . “
“It’s not like her at all, doctor. I am quite worried, you know. I wondered if you could come up and check her over.”
“I don’t think we need to do that, Mrs Curtis. She is just a bit sleepy. She is only four years old and she has probably had a busy day. These little ones do get tired in school. I don’t think that she is seriously ill.”
“Well, how can you say that if you haven’t seen her, doctor?”
“I just don’t think she is.”
“This is flipping ridiculous!”

My Dad frowned and looked at the phone. “I am sorry, Mrs Curtis. Did I say that or did you?”

Kayleigh Curtis