I was so riled when I got to bed that I tossed and turned, so it was just as well Stella had used her own bed for a change. I don’t know what time it was that I went to sleep, but I was awoken by something gently patting my face.

“Mummeeee, Mima needs a wee wee, quickwee, hurwee.”

For the moment of waking I’d forgotten what a novelty her walking was, I staggered out of bed and taking her hand walked her to the loo. It was only when she was sitting on it that I realised she’d walked again. It was almost miraculous, although I didn’t say too much.

“CanI’ve a dwink, Mummy?” said the little voice.

“You can have some water,” this was based on two reasons, firstly, the water was there, as was a glass; and secondly, if she drank juice or cordial, she should clean her teeth again. I couldn’t cope with that.

“Mima want juice.”

“Not in the middle of the night, young lady, water is all that I’m offering.”

“S’not fair, she began to pretend to cry.”

“Life isn’t I’m afraid, but I could take you back to the supermarket if you’d prefer to live with that other lady, the one at the checkout.”

“No,” she said emphatically, “You, Mima’s mummy,” and clung on to my pyjamas. She looked at the silky material, “Shiny and smoove, nice,” she said as she rubbed her face on it.

I poured a glass of tap water and she drank a little. I recall years ago someone telling me if toddlers wake up in the night for a drink, give them water because to give them juice rewards them and they’ll wake again. I decided I check out the practical side of this. She handed me back the glass and we walked back to bed. It was four o’clock.

I tucked her in and kissed her goodnight again, got back into bed and switched off the light. I was just nodding off again, when the patting on my face began again. “Mima wanna sweep wiv Mummy.”

I should have said no, but I was so tired so I bent down and lifted her into the bed. I hoped she’d get too hot and eventually go back to her own bed, in the interim, I said, “Any messing about and you go back to your own bed, understand.”

“Mima wuv Mummy.” She then bent over and kissed me. I could have hugged her and strangled her at the same time.

“Come on, cuddle down and go to sleep.” I moved over and she spooned into the front of me. I put up with a few wriggles and sighs before I managed to drop off again.

I woke up needing a pee, which was probably what woke me, that and the sensation of something crawling in my hair. I opened an eye and saw Mima sat up in bed, trying to plait my hair or something. She spotted my open eye and said, “Mima making Mummy pwetty.” I groaned. She kissed me.

I grabbed her and rolling over pulled her with me, she shrieked as I tickled her and made growling noises. “Stop,” she squealed, “Mima need wee wee.” So I took her and hopped from foot to foot as she went and then wiped herself, almost jumping onto the toilet seat as soon as she vacated it, whipping down my jammy pants as I went. “Ha ha Mummy wee wee too.”

It was now nearly eight and I got in the shower and took her in with me. She squealed and giggled as we showered together, stepping in and out of the water, which I had cooler than usual. Then I wrapped her in a bath towel and did the same to myself and we dried ourselves.

I managed to get us dressed despite her help, she eventually agreed to wear a set of dungarees over a tee shirt with a cardi on top. I pulled on some jeans and a top over my bra and pants. She sat on the bed and watched as I dressed, taking it all in. I suppose this is how little girls learn to be women, except I only have about as much experience as she does, so I’d have to make it up as I went along.

I dried our hair and combed it through, putting hers into plaited pigtails and my own into a ponytail. Then down to breakfast. Stella was eating some toast and reading the paper.

I’d carried Mima down the stairs, but walked her into the kitchen. Stella spotted her walking and said, “My, aren’t you a clever little girl.” She held out her hands and Mima walked towards her. “I love your hair,” continued Stella.

“Mummy make Mima pwetty.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Stella, “did you give her a kiss to say thank you?”

A look of confusion came over the child and she giggled nervously, then she came over to me and reached up to me to be lifted. When I lifted her up she put her arms around my neck an kissed me on the cheek, “Fank you, Mummy, for making Mima pwetty.”

“You are welcome, Sweetheart,” I felt quite choked again, at this rate I was going to need an ENT specialist by the end of the first month. I knew that there were plenty of difficult times ahead, parenting is an enormous challenge to anyone, assuming I was given the chance to have more than a cursory try. I decided therefore, to make the most of my opportunity to enjoy it as much as I could, but also to show this child, who’d been abandoned and dumped on me, that there was another model of parenting, which used large dollops of love inside clear and firm boundaries. That was the outline, putting in the fine detail would take a little longer.

We hadn’t long finished breakfast when the doorbell rang and my heart sank. To my surprise it was the policeman, PC Bond. I invited him in and Mima half hid behind my legs, having a good look but holding on to my back pockets.

He took off his helmet and bent down to talk with her, eventually, she stood by herself, sucking her finger. He looked up at me, “So how’s motherhood?” and smiled broadly.

“It has it’s moments, mostly good at present.”

“Good, I’m pleased for you, she certainly looks happy with the results so far.” He tickled her and she giggled and hid behind my legs again, calling at me to lift her up. “Did you tell her to call you Mummy?”

“No, I asked to call me Auntie Cathy, but she insisted on the ‘M’ word.”

“Mummy,” she said patting my shoulder, she looked at the copper and repeated it.

“That’s your new mummy is it?”

“Mima’s mummy, Mummy Caffy.” She next threw her arms around my neck and nuzzled into me.

“I just realised she’s walking again, the docs will be pleased.”

“Yes, my clever girl, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she said flirting with the policeman.

“Would you like a coffee?” I asked.

“That would be nice. Oh, we did get some fingerprints off the note and some DNA, both of them belonging to DC Pratt,” his face cracked into a smile, “so we still don’t know who her original parents are.”

“You mean, you don’t think Janice was?”

“I don’t know. She might have been, unless we find her we’ll never know. It’s a very unusual case, I’ve never known anything like it in over twenty years on the force.”

“If someone is going to come forward, then I hope it’s before she gets too bonded–sorry no pun intended–to me, and vice versa.”

“It’s strange that she seems to have taken to you so readily, almost as if it was programmed into her.”

“It had crossed my mind, though what would be the purpose?”

“I don’t know, unless maybe to threaten to take her back unless you paid up megabucks.”

“How callous that would be, besides, doesn’t it presuppose my long term fostering, which is by no means certain?”

I made some coffee for Mr Bond and Stella joined us, so did Kiki, who got a little boisterous with Mima and knocked her over. There were a few tears, but nothing I couldn’t deal with, and I also got her to wear her protective helmet.

As PC Bond was leaving a young woman walked up the path, “Are you Miss Watts?”

“I am, who are you?”

“She flashed her identity card, Brenda Walker, trainee social worker, can we talk?”

I invited her in and made her a cuppa, she could see Mima in my arms waving goodbye to the policeman.

“This, I take it, is Jemima Scott?”

“Yes.”

“Like the crash helmet, in training for the human cannonball is she?”

“She was knocked down about a month ago, she had a fracture to her skull.”

“Yes, I read up on that, you apparently saved her life, convenient, wasn’t it?”

“Our paths have crossed once or twice, but that day, I could just as easily have stayed in the car and she might have died. I recognised her mother, or who I assumed was her mother.”

“So you knew her, the mother I mean?”

“No, I’d met her with Jemima once or twice, I did show her around our dormouse breeding room at the university, they’re still twitching, the dormice I mean.” She looked at me oddly. “Mima, usually talks or squeals at levels of decibels higher than a jumbo jet taking off.”

“Ah,” she smiled. Then said, “You have to admit it was quite a coincidence you happened on the accident.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yes it was. Prof Agnew was with me so I’m sure he would verify it was a total coincidence.”

“I’m sure.” She sipped her tea. “You can’t have children can you?”

I blushed, “You have done your homework.”

“So you see the point of my enquiry?”

“Do you seriously think I’d deliberately set up an accident to gain possession of a child–that is totally sick.”

“I agree, but we have to rule it out.”

“Look, you do what you have to do, I only want what is best for Mima. So if that means you take her and place her with someone else, I understand. I would however, like to see her occasionally if that’s possible.”

“If we do place her with another foster parent, I’m afraid you won’t get to see her at all.”

“I see. I suppose I have no rights.”

“I’m sure you have rights, but not over this child. You aren’t even a registered foster parent.”

“So, are you the one who’s going to take her away, just waiting for the police reinforcements to arrive?” I felt my eyes fill with tears.

“No, not particularly, she seems well looked after and happy enough, but I don’t know what the eventual outcome will be, just don’t hold your breath.”

“Until a week or so ago, Mima was just a noisy kid, I’d bumped into a couple of times, usually when I was least expecting it, like in a restaurant. Oh she’s cute, but no more so than any other child. I went to help Janice, whom I assumed to be her mother, because I could see she was struggling with a disabled child and I had some spare time. Then she sold me some cock and bull story about a philandering husband who’d been shot in Saudi Arabia, and asked me to look after Mima. I expected a week or two at most and was surprised that there seemed to be no grandparents or other close relatives to do it. She said she was desperate, so I stupidly agreed. I was beginning to bond with Mima, and regrettably she with me. I never thought I’d hear a child call me mummy. She does even though I didn’t initiate it and even resisted it at first. Now it feels special. If you have to take her do it soon, or once again she’s going to be the loser, she needs a stable home life, I could provide it but I suspect I’m not going to get the chance, so do your worst but do it soon, for her sake.”

“Very touching, Solomon would be pleased with your allegory on his judgement.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The wisdom of King Solomon, surely you’ve read or heard of it?”

“If I have it was some while ago.”

“Go and read it. I have to go?”

“So what is likely to happen?”

“That, I couldn’t tell you but I’d be surprised if she stays with you, even if you use some clever lawyer to fight it.”

“Did you know I’d consulted a lawyer?”

“No, but you’re neither stupid nor poor.”

“I’m not that wealthy either.”

“No but future hubby is, so is his family. I’ve already heard that Lord Henry has been throwing his weight about. It won’t help, you know. The adoption and fostering committee are completely uninfluenced by such things.”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re implying, but it isn’t true. If it’s in the long term interest of Jemima, then I will naturally surrender her to the appropriate authority. I won’t suggest that I wouldn’t be reluctant to give her up now, she’s got under my skin and I’d love to keep her, but the law is the law and we all have to obey it.”

“Indeed, I knew you’d see reason.”

“Oh, I can see it, but I don’t have to like it. The law is not the same as justice or fairness, but we seem to be stuck with it. Tell them, the powers that be, to act soon if they’re going to, or it will destroy this child, or doesn’t that count as long as it’s within the law? Please go now.”