I woke up with a little body tucked into me, this time I discovered it was Mima. I found out later that Trish had suggested they cuddle into Simon and me on an alternating basis–in case we got jealous. I could see that Trish was going to be quite a negotiator if she’d considered such areas before the age of five.

The cuddle or cwtch every morning had been such a routine that as they climbed in, I automatically put my arm around whoever it was who climbed in–thank goodness Kiki was kept downstairs.

The little body trembling or shaking woke me up properly, “What’s the matter?” I asked quietly, realising it was Mima not Trish I was holding.

“Wiw they take me away, today?” she was crying.

“Will who take you away, sweetheart?”

“The judgeman.”

“The judge? I have no idea what he will say, but I shall be very cross if he tries to take you away.”

“I wiw cwy, if he twies to.”

“Hey, we’re not going to even think about losing this, we’re going to win it, right?”

“White,” she said.

“Right on, Babes,” said Simon turning over.

“Who told Mima she could be taken away today?” I asked loudly.

Crying sounded from the other side of Simon, “I’m sorry, Mummy,” Trish boo-hooed, “But I heard you talking with Daddy, the other day, an’ you said what you’d do if the court took her off you.”

Damn, little piggies have big ears–now I had two to comfort. “Why did you tell Mima?”

“We was goin’ to wun away,” said Mima.

I sat up in bed, “Okay, who was going to run where?” Trish instead of answering me, howled even louder and Simon cuddled her close to him. “Trish, I need you to stop crying and talk to me.” Mima was hanging on to me for grim death.

Simon managed to calm her down and Trish stuttering, told me how they were going to run out of the court and hide around the back. Later, they would walk to Tom’s house and be with us again.

I admired their pluck, but it was a total non-starter. They’d be lucky to get out of the court, let alone out of the building, and as for finding their way to Tom’s house–impossible.

I made them promise that they wouldn’t try any such thing, because if they did, I would take them to the police station. They looked horrified at this, claiming they only wanted to be with Simon and me.

“Girls, judges are very important people. They are also very powerful people and usually very wise. He will do what he thinks is the best thing for Mima. I have my own ideas, which he might not agree with, but whatever he says, we have to obey. To do anything else, means we could be put in prison.” This brought forth another bout of tears.

Once everything had calmed down we all got up and showered, Simon going last for obvious reasons, he also dried off Trish who, he later told me, seemed total un-self-conscious of her wrongful anatomy. She dressed herself, in the clothes I’d put out for her by the time Mima and I emerged from the bathroom.

A quick breakfast–I managed to force down a single slice of toast only because Simon insisted. Stella was up as well and dressed, she announced she was coming too, so was Tom, who looked pale and drawn.

“Are you okay? Daddy,” I asked him.

“Just worried about this, I reckon. I didnae sleep too well.” I hugged him and told him I loved him and thanked him for his support. “I’m doing this for that wee mite, an’ mesel’. I enjoy being a grampa.”

“I know,” I hugged him again, but decided he should see the doctor if he didn’t look better soon. He ate a little breakfast, except for Simon and the girls, none of us wanted much, which I attributed to nervousness.

Henry phoned to wish us luck and told us he would see us in court. I’m sure it wasn’t the first or last time he’d used the phrase. Our hearing was due at eleven o’clock. After my third visit to the loo, we left at ten.

I drove the Mondeo with Tom and the girls with me. Stella followed in her Fiesta accompanied by Simon. At a push he could drive if she was taken ill, but he hoped she’d be all right.

This was a civil case; what someone who was actually charged with something must feel entering the courts, I hated to think. We went to the waiting area and met up with Henry and Monica. They made a huge fuss of the kids and of Stella. Finally, they greeted Tom, Simon and me. Henry, kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “Is Tom okay, he looks quite grey?”

“He said it was just worry.”

“Get him checked out, soon.” We hugged and he went back to Stella and the girls. Monica made a fuss and she too, asked about Tom. I looked at the man I’d come to regard as my substitute father, and they were right he looked ashen and seemed to be sweating.

“Daddy, come and sit down,” I urged him.

“Aye, alricht,” he lumbered towards the chair and the next thing, he slumped off it and onto the floor.

“Tom,” I gasped as Simon and Stella rushed to help. Tom had a small cut on his head where he bumped either the chair or the floor. A court usher rushed to see if he could help.

Monica grabbed the two kids and whisked them off to see if they could find some sweeties, I seemed to snap out of my trance and knelt down at Tom’s side. Stella was trying to feel for a pulse but with her lump in front, it wasn’t easy.

I placed my hand on Tom’s neck, there was no carotid and his lips were turning blue. Myocardial infarct? Probably. I treated it as if it was, and began chest compressions, ripping open his shirt and pulling off his tie as I started.

Stella dialled nine nine nine and called for an ambulance. After thirty compressions, I checked, still no heart beat, so I straightened his airway and blew two breaths into his mouth. I felt my tears drip off my chin as I returned to the compressions.

The usher told me he’d do the compressions. “Do it to the Archer’s Theme music timing,” I said.

“Gotcha,” he replied and I could hear him humming, ‘Dum ti dum ti dum ti dum…’

“Breaths,” I said and blew again into Tom’s mouth. We continued thirty compressions to two breaths. I felt sick and guilty, why didn’t I spot this happening, and what was Stella thinking–she’s the trained nurse.

Eventually the ambulance arrived and Simon went off with it. I collapsed in a heap of tears and self-recriminations. Stella, pulled me up and walked me to the ladies loo.

I looked in the mirror, my makeup was a mess, I‘d rubbed a hole in the knee of my trousers and I felt a total wreck. She helped me wash off my messy makeup and I combed my hair into some semblance of tidiness. Monica looked in and said, “They’re calling you, Cathy.”

My stomach flipped and I just made it to a cubicle to be sick. Monica came to help me, I felt quite faint but managed to walk with the support of Monica and Stella.

Henry was standing in the middle of the vestibule with one of the girls holding each of his hands. The nonsensical thought went through my mind, that he looked as if he was enjoying himself with his two grandchildren–then I thought of Tom and I started to cry again. Monica shoved some tissues into my hand.

The usher came up to me, “Are you Catherine Watts?”

“Yes,” I answered and sniffed.

“Was that…”

“My father who collapsed, yes.” I sniffed again.

“His lordship is ready to see you.”

I nodded and digging into my reserves of strength, pulled myself upright, held out my hands to the children, and walked into the family courtroom. I led our little party into the side unoccupied by a dozen or more bodies from Social Services.

Let the denouement begin.