A third letter arrived, from the smear clinic itself, which detracted nothing from her predicament. It merely said that following review of her health questionnaire, her case had been referred to the doctor who would be in touch if further assessment was required.

It appeared that it was.

If she'd felt the original smear test letter like a weight in her pocket, this one was like a brick. She hated its tone. It was so formal and impersonal, despite being about such a personal thing. "See you for examination." The words sent a frisson of mortification through her. How awful to be "seen" like that by the male doctor. Her tummy felt all squirmy when she thought about it.

And the doctor had, basically, summoned her. There was no suggestion that she had any say in the matter. On the other hand it was left to her to make the arrangements. It was a bit like being made to dig your own grave before you were shot. Well, maybe that was a bit melodramatic but she was feeling a bit melodramatic, to be honest. A man she'd never met before was going to look at her fanny. Clare felt that, if there was an occasion for melodrama, this was it.

She wondered what would happen if she just ignored them, the smear clinic and the doctor. They might go away. They couldn't actually force her to do this, could they? She had a fleeting vision of a couple of burly nurses holding her down, while Dr Anderson peered between her thighs. "Ok. Get a grip of yourself," she told herself firmly. "It's just a medical appointment. I'll call later."

But she didn't call later. She was busy and it got to 5p.m. "They'll be closed now," she thought, "I'll call tomorrow." But she didn't. Or the next day. As each day closed, she felt a mixture of relief "Oh, damn, too late to call again now" and shame. She knew she was really avoiding the appointment because she was too embarrassed. It had been touch and go whether she went for the smear test at all and this whole thing with the doctor was a step too far.

And she was ashamed of being embarrassed. She knew she should be "grown up" about it. But the thought of it made her hot and cold all over. Thinly buried beneath the veneer of the confident young woman she liked to be was a shy, catholic, still just about teenager who didn't want the doctor to look at her private parts.

It took her three days to make the call.