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‘It’s called “the parent’s kiss”—basically, it’s something a trusted parent or adult can do for a young child, to help simulate the effect of a sneeze or a gentle nose-blow.’
‘Will it really work?’
‘It might. Especially with it being a small, smooth bead that Stella has put up there. It’s certainly worth trying before we move on to anything more invasive. But I have to know if I can even see the object first.’
‘Stella, flower, if you let the doctor check your nose, I think I might be able to get you that little puppy toy you liked.’
Stella perked up, so Saskia tried a stage whisper.
‘I can definitely tell Mummy that you deserve a puppy toy if you’re so brave.’
Within ten minutes, and after a little more cajoling, Saskia had the answer she needed, and now Stella was sitting upright on a chair, her back pressed against the fabric, and her mother was sitting, white-faced, in front of her.
‘So, Stella, you’re going to open your mouth just a little. Mum, you’ll need to use your own mouth to make a seal around your daughter’s. You’ll press your thumb against the unobstructed nostril and then you’ll exhale in a short, sharp puff.’
‘Just one?’
‘We can repeat the process up to five times, but just one at a time. When you’re ready, go ahead.’
‘How tightly do I press my thumb on her nostril?’
‘Tightly enough to stop the air escaping. The more air that shoots down the obstructed nostril, the more chance it has to dislodge the bead.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Mrs Jones nodded suddenly. ‘Okay. So... I just do it?’
‘When you’re ready.’
As the mother adjusted her grip on her daughter, Stella squirmed.
Saskia knelt down next to her. ‘Don’t worry sweetie,’ she soothed. ‘It’s just going to be like a big kiss from Mummy. And the stiller you can stay, the more chance the bead will come out. And I would love that, because I don’t want to have to try and get it with any of my instruments, and I don’t think you want that either, do you?’
Another wild head-shake.
‘Good,’ encouraged Saskia. ‘So, shall we let Mummy have a go at trying to help?’
A tentative nod.
‘Clever girl. Okay, be brave and think of that toy puppy. You can look at me, if you like. I do a great Donald Duck impression.’
* * *
‘Good call, Saskia,’ Maggie commented as they finished discharging a much happier Stella. ‘Don’t you think, Babette?’
Babette sniffed, and Saskia supressed a ripple of irritation. How long would she have to be practising as a doctor before she didn’t let Babette get to her? Why did she even care?
‘I guess...’ Babette shrugged, giving the impression that it was anything but good. ‘Hadn’t you better be leaving soon, anyway? You don’t want to turn up to the gala looking like that.’
‘What gala?’ Saskia regretted the question even as it was leaving her mouth.
‘The Valentine’s Day gala.’ Babette stopped, a gleam instantly chasing the dullness from her expression. ‘You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?’
Saskia didn’t want to lie. But then, she didn’t want to give Babette the upper hand, either.
‘I know. I just forgot.’ She managed to remain impressively nonchalant. ‘I’ve got a prior engagement.’
‘With a tub of ice cream and your pyjamas?’ Babette snorted, clearly delighted with the turn of events. ‘What could be more important than supporting your husband—the father of your unborn baby—in his biggest charity dinner to date?’
There was no pretending now. Not on either side. Babette was practically purring as she licked the proverbial cream from her whiskers, whilst Saskia felt so winded she was astonished she wasn’t on her back on the cold floor of the corridor, staring up at the stark white ceiling.
