I carried the tea through to the dining room along with a tin of biscuits. “Where is the child now?” asked the woman detective.

“She’s upstairs having a nap after the hospital visit.” I said defensively, “Don’t worry, there is a child, a little girl, who was injured in a RTA a few weeks ago.”

“That’s not the one where the driver claimed the mother directed her daughter out in front of him?” postulated the older, uniformed copper.

“How do I know? I stopped after the event, and with the help of one of your colleagues, got her breathing again.”

“Didn’t you recognise her?” asked the woman reading some notes.

“I saw the mother, then the child under the car or van or whatever it was, and I twigged as I started the CPR. I can’t remember, it was all over in a moment and I must admit I was operating on adrenaline the same as everyone else.”

“Then you went to visit?”

“Well some bloke arrived with a big bunch of flowers and thanked me for saving his grandchild.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Not really, he was mostly hidden by the flowers, I can’t remember him, sorry.”

“Okay, so how did you end up with the little girl?”

“I went to see her in hospital and she remembered me, we’ve met a few times and I showed her around the university, my laboratory, where I have some dormice.”

“So she was known to you?”

“An acquaintance, with a nice touch in decibels.” I said wryly and Stella nearly choked on her tea.

“This is funny?” asked the woman cop.

“It used to be. Jemima had a voice like a foghorn on steroids, it’s actually got quieter since her accident. She terrified the dormice, took us weeks to calm them down.”

“It was a bit silly showing them to her,” said the cop.

“You don’t have children?” I asked although it was almost a rhetorical question because it was obvious she wasn’t child oriented.

“No, my career is my child,” she said almost sneeringly.

“I thought mine was too, having had Jemima a week, I’m not so sure anymore.” I stared wistfully at Stella, who smiled sympathetically.

“Social Services will be here in an hour to collect the child,” announced the woman cop.

“Will they?” I asked.

I nodded to Stella, who rose from her chair, and asked, “Anyone for more tea?”

As she went to leave the room she was challenged by the woman cop, “And where do you think, you’re going?”

“Am I under arrest?” she retorted.

“No,” said the cop.

“Well then, in my own home, I think I can go where I like without permission.”

“Please don’t leave the house or touch the child.”

“Child? What is this with child, her name is Jemima.” I said angrily wanting to knock her head off.

“Very well, Jemima, don’t go near Jemima.”

“Hang on a minute, before we go any further, I called you in, in good faith. I agreed to foster Jemima in the same good faith. Admittedly, I assumed there were no problems with her other than the medical ones she has. So as far as I am concerned, I am responsible for her.”

“We’ll see what social services have to say about that,” said the woman, to whom I was taking an active dislike.

Stella left the room and I hoped was making several phone calls. With a bit of luck Henry played bridge with the Director of Social Services. I found myself praying silently.

Ten minutes later, Stella came in with a fresh pot of tea. I’d amused myself by telling my story of Jemima’s coming here yet again. I half expected them to want to see the wheel marks in Kiki’s coat, although that was from an earlier visit.

As Stella poured the tea, she winked at me. I accepted the gesture as a good sign. The woman cop’s phone rang, and she excused herself to answer it.

“Can we see the child?” she asked when she came back in, she looked flushed.

“Of course you may see Jemima. Follow me.” I said and led them upstairs.

“Mima, I’ve brought some people to see you, I hope you’re awake.”

“Mima, I thought her name was Jemima?”

“It is, it’s a diminutive,” is this woman stupid or am I?

I led them in to the room and Jemima had managed to pull herself into a sitting position, she was getting stronger by the day.

“Why is this child in her underwear?” asked the cop.

“She’s in bed, do you go fully dressed?” I asked back in astonishment. I knew for sure who was stupid.

“I wuv you Mummy Caffy,” said this small voice and a beaming smile.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Can this lady and gent have a little talk with you?”

Jemima nodded emphatically. I gave her a hug and was going to sit her on my lap.

“Miss Watts, if you wouldn’t mind standing away from erm, Jemima.” I did so but the look on Jemima’s face was far from pleased, her bottom lip trembled.

“All right, luvvie, is this lady your mother?” the cop pointed at me.

Of course, Jemima nodded. The cop looked at me and her eyes narrowed.

“She decided she wanted to call me mummy a few days ago. I wasn’t entirely happy because as far as I was concerned the post was already filled by someone else. However, she has persisted and what Jemima wants, she seems to get.”

The woman cop’s eyes narrowed again. “Do you have another mummy?”

Jemima shook her head vigorously, no. My stomach flipped.

“What about Mummy Janice?” I asked and got a hard stare from the cop.

“She goed, you Mima’s mummy.”

I shrugged my shoulders, the cop wasn’t happy. She asked several questions but Mima wasn’t answering them to her satisfaction, well she is only three. She did manage to say she had a daddy, but he’d, “goed too.”

At this point we heard a noise from downstairs and Tom arrived. He was questioned and had a better recollection of our various encounters with Jemima.

I toileted her and gave her a sandwich to eat after her snooze, Stella made her a drink. I offered to show them where Janice and Jemima had lived when I visited them. I left Mima with Stella and Tom and drove off with one of the police with me and the other following behind in a squad car.

We stopped outside the house and I trotted up the path, I gasped as I looked through the window, it was bare of furnishings and a ‘To Let’ sign was positioned near the door.

“They’ve obviously moved and you didn’t notice, or is this some elaborate plan to acquire this child without the legal adoption process?”

“Look, a week or two ago I visited Jemima here, I helped to look after her to give Janice a chance to do some chores. I took her to the airport from here. I don’t know what is going on any more than you do, but if I was trying to harm or keep the child illegally, why in God’s name did I call you lot?”

“To make it look legitimate?”

“Oh for Chrissake, grow up. I want what is best for Jemima. I’d have thought that was with her natural parents, now I’m not so sure. Look, call the estate agents, see if they have any information, their office is only about a mile away.”

I pulled out my mobile and dialled the number on the board and gave it to the cop. She arranged to go straight there. I followed them. “This is a police investigation,” she said nastily.

“Yeah, well I’m doing my own investigating and seeing as you lot couldn’t find pee in a pot, I’m coming in too.” Before she could say anything to stop me, I marched into the office and started asking the woman behind the desk about the house. The woman copper was outraged but her colleague was stifling a smirk, so she obviously wasn’t much liked by her colleagues.

The house had been rented by the Scotts, the young woman remembered them, he was quite a bit older than her. I wondered if that was who brought the flowers, but I kept the thought to myself–let Miss Plod think of it for herself.

There had been references, all forged, even the bank one. The rent was unpaid and it appears they did a moonlit flit. The police borrowed the keys and I followed them back to the house. I showed them where Janice had slept and the other rooms I’d entered. We all looked about the place for any bits of paper and to my astonishment, there was a letter addressed to me on the mantelpiece of the lounge.

The woman cop opened it wearing latex gloves and read it to herself, her lips moved as she read, why did that surprise me? Then she read it to me.

’Dear Lady Catherine,
If you’ve discovered this note, you will be aware we are no longer here. We are no longer in the country, so don’t bother looking for us. I was so glad you offered to look after Jemima, she’s a bit of a tie, especially with no legs and I suspect you’ll make a better mother than me. So you can have her, gratis and free of charge. To them what has will be given, eh? Well you have more than we do, and if you adopt her, she’ll be Lady Jemima, she’ll like that.
Yours,
Janice Scott.
PS There’s no fingerprints or DNA on this.

“We’ll see about that,” said the woman copper and shoved it in a plastic bag.