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‘I don’t like my dad.’ Summer stuck out her bottom lip.

‘Oh, sweetheart. Just because me and your dad are having some problems at the moment, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.’

‘He didn’t come to the hospital with me.’

‘He had to work.’

‘So did you. If he loved me, he would have come.’

Evelyn didn’t even know how to start dealing with that problem, but she knew it would take a much longer conversation than they had time for now. So she did the wimpy thing and chickened out by changing the subject, while making a silent promise to try and figure it out later. ‘We’re here. Do you want your necklace now?’

‘Yes please!’

Evelyn unzipped Summer’s coat and carefully draped the beaded necklace around her, looping it over three times. She was simultaneously filled with gratitude and horror every time she saw it.

They signed in at reception and settled down to wait for Summer’s name to be called. Evelyn tried to hide her own nerves, while Summer happily rummaged through the collection of children’s toys and books set up in a corner of the waiting room. As much as Evelyn put on a brave face for her daughter, she struggled with doctors too – at least when it was her or someone she loved who was the patient. It was a room very like this one that she’d sat nervously in a few years ago, waiting to hear the news every parent dreaded: her baby was sick, and it was bad. She made an effort to study the room, picking out all the differences between this one and all the others she’d been in recently: the beams and visible parts of the walls and low ceilings were all different, but the large windows, multitude of pamphlets and posters, and screen to announce which patient should go to which room were all far too similar for her comfort.

Eventually the screen lit up with Summer’s name, and they walked hand in hand down the corridor.

‘Well, hello there, you must be Summer. I’m Dr Macpearson, but you can call me Dr Tom.’ He was a smiley, older man with blue eyes that were sharp behind his glasses. What little hair he had left was grey, and he looked friendly and reassuring in his sports coat and corduroys.

‘Yup, and you’re Jake’s daddy.’

‘Why yes, yes I am.’ Dr Tom laughed. ‘And this must be your mum.’ He smiled warmly.

‘Her name’s Evelyn,’ Summer replied helpfully.

‘Yes, I know. I used to be your Mum’s doctor too. It’s nice to see you again, Evelyn.’

‘You as well.’ She shook his outstretched hand which was still warm and firm.

He turned back to Summer, and held his hand out to her too. She shook it, very seriously, and grinned at him.

‘I like your necklace. They’re bravery beads, aren’t they? From the hospital and your other doctors?’

Summer nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve got a lot of them.’

‘Yes you do. I know what some of the colours mean, but in case your doctors used different ones, can you tell me what they’re for?’ He leaned forward.

Summer picked up one of the strands and held it up so he could see better. ‘They’re all different. The red ones are for blood tests – I’ve got a lot of them. The blue ones are when I’ve had to see doctors – I’ve got the most of them. These funny ones are special – they glow in the dark – and are for radiotherapy, but I was sad because I didn’t glow afterward. Not even a little bit. I put my covers over my head to check and everything. The white ones were … Mum? I’ve forgotten.’

‘Chemotherapy.’ Evelyn’s voice caught in her throat as she choked on emotion. Listening to Summer cheerfully show her beads of courage to the doctor and rattle off all the different procedures she’d been through was agonising. As was the realisation that Summer was right – Charlie had been missing for almost every bead and procedure after the first dozen or so, using work as the excuse. The doctor gave her a reassuring smile and a wink, and she instantly felt a little better.

‘I like the purple beads, coz that’s the end of treatment, but …’ Summer leaned forward. ‘This is the best one.’ She showed him the multicoloured heart dangling from the middle of the necklace. ‘Because this one means I’m better.’

‘I like that one too,’ Dr Tom confessed. ‘And I bet it’s your mum’s and Nanny’s favourite too.’

‘Definitely,’ Evelyn agreed wholeheartedly.

‘So, how are you feeling Summer?’ The doctor took out a pen to make notes.

‘OK, thank you. How are you?’

‘I’m very well thank you, and very impressed with your good manners. But you’re my patient, so I’m very curious to know more about how you’re feeling.’

‘My head itches, but Nanny says it’s from where my hair is growing back. And I still get tired sometimes. It’s annoying because I want to go back to school and make friends, and play more, but then I want to go to bed too.’ She sighed hugely. ‘It sucks.’

‘Summer!’ Evelyn chastised immediately. ‘That is not language I appreciate.’