Ration books disappeared and in the press, Sister Julia read that earnings were rising. The economy was still fragile though. In 1956 a severe frost hit Spain’s citrus production and olive harvest – this affected the farmers and in turn the people; it seemed to be two steps forwards and one back. But still, Sister Julia thought, at least there was now some sense of hope. This morning she had walked along the street towards the clinic and she had heard a man whistling a bolero. Her spirits had risen. The Spanish were a strong race. They could not easily be trampled on. Now, it was seven p.m. and Sister Julia was exhausted. Three babies had been born in the Canales Clinic that day and she had hardly stopped to rest. The first, a healthy baby girl, thank the Lord, had been born at midday. This baby was due to be adopted and the new parents would be arriving very soon to take her away. Sister Julia had spent some time in the afternoon comforting the mother, a woman called Inez Leon, who had made her decision to give up her baby with what seemed to be a heavy heart.
