Luckily (or maybe unluckily) the health centre was on the same side of town as the modern languages faculty, just a five minute walk away. She arrived twe for Clare, who was always late for everything. But she wasn't late for this. Once again, she was dimly conscious of the tendrils of the doctor's power extending into her life: how she presented herself, the effort she made to be on time.

For ten minutes she sat outside and smoked a cigarette. It was an occasional habit she'd picked up. Usually, she only smoked when out but this was a special occasion. It calmed her nerves a bit.

The health centre was an attractive 1930s building, all red brick walls and big windows but as she gazed at it, she saw the rampatts of Mordor, with Dr Andrews, like Sauron, plying his dark art deep within. "Get a grip, Clare. It's just a doctor". Stubbing out her fag, she took a deep brief and entered.

Inside it was all instititional blue paint and institutional parquet floors. It smelt of the institutional paint and the floor polish from the parquet and a vague "medically" sort of a smell.

"I've got an appointment," she said, as she pushed the letter across the reception desk, carefully avoiding the horrible words "smear" "clinic" "doctor" and "examination." She was directed upstairs and to the left. "All the way down the corridor and through the double doors."

Upstairs, more blue walls and parquet floor. Her trainers squeaked on it. As she approached the double doors, she could already see, through their fire resistant glass windows, the four or five girls seated in the corridor, looking nervous and embarrassed. This was it.

Sliding her bag onto the floor, she took a seat. There was an awkward silence. Two of the other girls were talking in low voices. Everyone else was quiet, a couple were reading, one was listening to a walkman. She could just hear the tinny sound leaking from her headphones.

A door opened. A noisy, jarringly cheery female voice "Vanessa Walton? Do you want come through, love?" Claire thought that Vanessa Walton did not look like she wanted to "come through" but she did anyway. Minutes passed. Subdued quiet returned to the corridor. After about ten minutes Vanessa Walton emerged triumphant with a cheery goodbye and walked briskly down the corridor to freedom. Another name was called. It was hers.