Over and above what she said, and her outward appearance, I realised she was confused and in difficulty, so much so, that at that moment she couldn’t see any other solution to her problems than an abortion. I don’t remember what I said to her, I know that I loved her and listened to her, trying to absorb her bewilderment like a sponge. She stayed with me for a long time and then she left more calmly, without saying a word.

After a few months she reappeared in the clinic. She greeted me and asked if I remembered her. I replied that I did, but I didn’t dare ask her what decision she had made. She took me by the hand and asked me to follow her. Outside, in the corridor, there was a pram. ‘Doctor, this is my daughter,’ she said. ‘The last time I came here I was desperate and wanted an abortion. You listened to me and I was able to think it through. I thought about it all that night and now, here she is. Then she turned towards the little girl, “See? This is your other mother.”