Her body shook, her legs trembled, her nerves were precious plates in unsteady hands about to fall to the floor. She must somehow keep a lid on it all.

            A medic in a white coat came out. The crowd waiting in A & E became alert. ‘Angela Phillips?’ the white coat said. ‘That’s me,’ she mumbled and they all stared at her, a sick, grey-haired woman

            ‘This way,’ she was told. Fifty pairs of eyes followed her out of the cramped room.