If only the doctor who looked at my daughter had taken another glance

There was a crunch of gravel and then the snap of our letter box opening.

A small package landed on our door mat, the front inscribed with the neat cursive hand of my 26-year-old daughter, Jess.

The card inside featured a rainbow with the words ‘just to send you a little smile’. The carefully padded envelope also contained a brooch, made by Jess’ friend, to raise funds for our health service.

Jess was a fan of the NHS rainbows and all they represented during the Covid pandemic. A few months earlier, on her Instagram, she’d written, ‘Seeing all the rainbows in the windows for all the NHS workers, absolute heroes (words can’t do you justice).’

It was now summer June 2020. In six months, Jess would be dead. Writing that word ‘dead’ still feels preposterous. More accurately, the events tha