“So how badly injured is she?” asked Tom as he tucked into his roast pork.

“Dunno,” I said, crunching on a piece of crackling, “Stella’s the expert.”

“Not on brain or spinal injuries, I’m not.”

“Did you do the right thing by resuscitating her?” He asked putting his knife down to scoop another dollop of apple sauce.

“Of course she did, how could you ask that, Tom,” Stella looked quite angry.

“I was just asking, that’s all. If she’s doomed to a life in wheelchair, she’s going to miss out on lots of things.”

“If she was dead, she’d miss out on a great deal more,” said Stella firmly.

“Okay, I know when I’m licked. So when are you going to see her, Cathy?”

“I don’t know, at the moment it’s about trying to keep her spirits up. She’s too young and probably still shocked, to recognise what could happen if things don’t get better.”

“Youngsters adapt more easily than older patients,” said Stella, “they don’t have all the negative experience or regret.”

“How are you going to help her?” asked Tom.

“Moral support and encouragement.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Didn’t you know Lady Cameron has magical powers?” teased Stella.

“Which one of you is that, or is a family thing?”

“Why, Lady Catherine, of course, who else?” Stella smirked at me and I felt my face get hot. I couldn’t think of a reply, so I poked out my tongue at her. She laughed.

The next morning, I felt sleepy and crotchety. I’d lain in bed for ages thinking about Jemima and how little I could do for her. My determination from yesterday had somehow diluted itself with self-doubt. What could I actually do for her? The answer was–zilch.

I felt a bit better after my shower and breakfast. Stella had gone into the university with Tom to help Pippa with some filing. I felt totally abandoned. I went for a short bike ride, about twenty miles and was back in the shower less than an hour and half later. I felt much better, and the cobwebs had been blown out of mind, so I was thinking more clearly.

Dried and dressed, smartly–I had a certain appearance to keep up for a little girl–even if they had jumped the gun with my name, encouraged by my future sister in law, who enjoys my discomfort at the misnomer.

I wore my Stella McCartney dress and matching shoes–not anything special with those, they just happened to match the colour exactly and I got them in a charity shop. They were a bit high though, for me at least, being about four inches. I prayed, I’d be able to find a parking space near the unit or suffer for my art!

On the way into the hospital, I stopped at a toyshop and bought a Fuzzy Felt set. It was something I’d had as a kid and enjoyed tremendously. I suppose because it was a unisex toy, my dad had allowed me to keep it. What he didn’t see, was my making only female characters and lots of babies, instead of cars and planes and things.

I had the box gift wrapped and I found a suitable get well card in the newsagent’s shop next door–it had a picture of a kitten on it. I wrote it and sealed the envelope and placed it in the bag with the present. I also managed to find a couple of comics, which I thought were about right for her age group.

I had lunch in the hospital restaurant, a sandwich and cuppa, which reminded me I needed to make some more bread tonight. I was sitting eating my sandwich, when the ICU nurse came in and spotted me. I didn’t see her until she sat next to me, “Do you mind?” she asked and I shook my head. “Are you going to see Jemima or have you been?”

“Going, how is she?”

“She certainly perked up after your visit, Lady Cameron.”

“It’s just plain Cathy, no airs and graces.”

“Okay, Cathy, I’m Annette, but they usually call me, Nettie.”

“Okay, Nettie, how can I help her to recover?”

“If I knew the answer to that, I’d save loads of lives. I think she picks up on your genuine concern for her and the fact that she knows you love children. Don’t leave it too long before you start a family, will you, or you’ll regret it.”

“That’s a moot point, I can’t conceive.” I said and blushed.

“What about in vitreo?”

“I doubt that would be much help, my breeding bits have been removed.”

“At your age?”

“Fraid so,” I blushed, I hadn’t told a lie, just allowed her to misunderstand what I’d said.

“What happened?”

“I’d prefer not to talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s no problem, shame though at your age.”

“We all have our crosses to bear, I love children but can’t have any.”

“What about adoption?”

“Maybe, I need to speak with Simon about it. At the moment, my career means I don’t have time to dwell on it.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a biologist at the university, I do research and a bit of teaching.”

“Ah, now I see the significance of the dormouse.”

“Yes, I showed Jemima around our dormouse breeding unit.”

“You don’t experiment on them, do you?” she looked suitably horrified.

“No we breed them for release.”

“Phew, that’s a relief.”

“They’re protected animals so we’d need a special licence to experiment on them. In a way, the release scheme is an experiment, seeing how they do on their own, in the wild.”

“How do they do?”

“So far so good, about twenty percent mortality rate and some have bred in the wild.”

“Gosh, you really are the dormouse lady, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“Or is it, Lady Dormouse?” we both laughed at her remark.

“Well, I have to go and see my protégé, see if I can have her running round the unit before I leave.”

“If you do, wait for me, I want to see it.”

“Right, I’ll certainly keep that in mind.” I nodded to her and left, trying desperately to think why on earth I’d worn these bloody shoes, they were killing me!