A man and a girl entered the clinic. The man looked old - older than his actual age - with a bushy beard, dark-brown mixed with grey; a weather-beaten face; and wrinkles of worry, old and recent, making it look like all the strength and joyfuless of youth had been sucked out of him long ago. He was dressed in old patched trousers, and a dark blue gansey with the traditional Whitby pattern, which marked him out as a fisherman. The girl’s upper body was wrapped in a large checked woollen shawl typical of the fisherwomen in this region, but underneath it a pink skirt of good quality cotton was visible, which did not show the same tears and patches as the man’s clothes. Her red hair was tied up on the back of her head, but messy, with some strands falling around her face, or bits of hair standing up. On top of her head, she did not wear a shawl like many fisherwomen, but a fine straw hat, decorated with some ornamental flowers.

As they entered, the man looked around anxiously. “Hello! Is anyone there!? Please help my daughter!” he shouted in a raw voice. One arm was wrapped around the girl and she was leaning against him. Her face was pale and her eyes were shut. Now and then she would grimace. There were tears on her cheeks. As she buried her face into her father’s chest, she knocked her hat off her head and it fell on the ground.