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teach them a thing or two about observation. ’
    They crossed the main thoroughfare and stopped at the corner of the hospital. She took the basket from him. ‘Thank you, Doctor Munroe, for carrying the basket and... and for your compliments.’
    ‘I spoke the truth. Nothing more.’
    Maybe she had been wrong about him last night. Maybe he hadn’t come to the Angel looking for a bit of quick company.
    She pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to let him think that she was a woman of loose morals, but—
    She put her head on one side. ‘In particular your compliment last night. I am sorry. I was a mite too sharp in my taking of it.’
     
    Robert sat back in the chair and watched as Polly Ellis swayed back and forth in the light from the window. She threw her hands over her head, smiled at him and then spun around. Robert clapped his hands softly.
    ‘You are the loveliest dancer I have ever seen,’ he said, signalling for her to come to him.
    ‘It’s all thanks to you that she can dance at all,’ Mrs Ellis said, as her daughter teetered towards him.
    Polly stood before Robert regarding him with a solemnity that only a five-year-old child can muster. She had been one of his first patients. He had been the physician on duty when her mother and father rushed her into the hospital, limp and barely breathing. That was three months ago.
    ‘How does it feel?’ he asked.
    ‘It’s a bit diggy here,’ she indicated where the strap held her new leg brace to the top of her thigh.
    Robert moved her dress aside. The brace had been fashioned out of metal by a gunsmith who had a workshop in Spitalfields and made the occasional implement for the hospital.
    ‘The brace has to rest here.’ He drew Mrs Ellis’s attention to where the soft kid padding sat at the apex of Polly’s thigh and groin. ‘And then be anchored by these straps. It might be sore for a few days but it will help to stabilise Polly’s knee joint while the muscles of her leg strengthen. These buckles need to be tight to hold the sides firm when she is walking.’ He pointed to the strap above Polly’s thin knee and ankle. ‘It has been designed to lengthen here, at the sides,’ he showed her where small screws held the two lengths of metal on either side, ‘And the strap that goes under the sole of her shoe also has to be tight over her instep.’
    ‘Will those shoes do? Because if not the pawnbroker said we can swap them for another pair,’ Mr Ellis asked, looking anxiously at him.
    ‘They are fine. And you have to remember to keep the brace joints greased, otherwise if they get wet they’ll seize up and rust.’
    ‘You can depend on it.’ Mr Ellis bent down to inspect the metalwork that encased his daughter’s right leg.
    Polly studied her brown boots and stamped her feet. ‘Shoes feel funny.’
    Robert watched her start to master the brace that she would have to wear for some considerable time. She was fortunate to be the Ellises’ only child. On the meagre wages her father earned as a dock porter Robert doubted that he could have afforded the shoes necessary to fit the brace if there had been more than one young mouth to feed. Mrs Ellis did the best she could, but the room in the eaves of a once grand house where they lived was sparsely furnished and shabby. Although the family was clean, their clothes had more darned patches than original cloth.
    ‘Can I offer you a dish of tea?’ Mrs Ellis asked.
    Robert eyed the lazy bluebottle circling the milk jug on the table. ‘Thank you, no.’
    Mr Ellis stood up. ‘It’s a fine piece of work is that. We are very grateful to you for all your trouble. Ain’t we, Mrs Ellis?’
    ‘That we are. We are very lucky that you know about such things,’ she said, coming forward to stand beside her husband.
    ‘You’re lucky that a damaged leg is all Polly has from her brush with poliomyelitis,’ Robert told them, as they all watched the little girl test her brace again by marching across the