Relations between Stella and I were strained to say the least. She did come down for some Sunday lunch, but returned to her room shortly afterwards. As far as I know, the rest of us, including Mima, enjoyed our roast lamb dinner.

Tom and Simon finished the bottle of wine and fell asleep watching the football on the telly. Mima sat in her high chair and talked to me whilst I cleaned up the kitchen and the dishes. Kiki, sat out in the conservatory chewing on the remains of the bone from the joint.

When she’d been to the loo–by herself, Mima yawned and went off to sleep between Tom and Simon. It made me smile how well she was fitting in with us, yet at the back of my mind, was how short lived this could all be. Once the kitchen was back under control, I made two cups of tea and went up to see Stella.

“Oh, I didn’t think we were talking?”

“I thought you might like a cuppa,” I presented her with the mug of steaming fluid.

“Thank you.”

I perched on the end of the bed. “Look, we are both being rather silly, and I suggest that we forget what has been said and move on. We need each other and we can either get over it or we part. What do you think?”

“I’m sorry for what I said,” she looked sheepishly at me.

“I’m sorry you said it, too, but we have to move on. So let’s just forget it all and move on. If that’s okay with you?”

“Yes,” she said, “that’s fine with me.”

“However, we need to write some new ground rules.”

“What did you have in mind?” She sipped her tea and looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

“Just that I need you to help me around the house a bit, or with Jemima. Officially, I’m still working remember, and I would like to keep Jemima for a bit longer if I can.”

“I thought you’d like to keep her, full stop?”

“I would, but I’m trying not to build up my hopes too much. I could still lose her.”

“Daddy seems to think you might be successful.”

“I’m grateful for his support but you can’t prejudge judges–maybe I should rephrase that?”

“No I think I got it, or the essence of it. Did you know the barrister he was talking to is the same one your solicitor chappy knows?”

“No, how did you know that?”

“Daddy phoned me earlier.”

“Oh did he? How is he?”

“He’s okay, worried about you and Jemima.”

“I thought he was fairly sure we’d win…”

“Okay, Cathy, you’ve made your point.”

“So, are you happy that we work together here?”

“I suppose so, although you’d never believe how bad my back is.”

“You could still watch Mima for me.”

“Yeah okay, I’ll watch the little hooligan for you.”

“She isn’t a hooligan, she’s a little angel. Come with me,” I led Stella down the stairs into the lounge. The television was still blaring and the three wise monkeys were still asleep on the sofa. What was so funny, was how they were all sitting or reclining. Heads back and mouths open, snoring. Hands by the side of them. Then when I looked more carefully, Mima had hold of a hand of each of the boys.

Typical, I spend half my time keeping her looking clean and tidy, and feeding her and she flirts with the men at the first opportunity. Such are the joys of motherhood–even in fostering.

I rushed off and got my camera, and by using a low shutter speed and high ISO setting, managed to take a picture without using flash. It was fairly dark, but I could lighten it a little with Photoshop, I might even use it as a personalised Christmas card.

Stella took one with her mobile and emailed it to her computer. I took out the card and inserted it into the reader. It took me twenty minutes, but I managed to lighten the picture without losing any definition. When I showed it to Stella, she thought it was perfect.

I saved the picture and printed one off on Tom’s laser printer. I took it up to my bedroom and put it safe. I hadn’t taken any photos of Mima, in fact I didn’t take many of anyone. Suddenly the possibility she could be taken away, made me want to have more memories of her. I felt my eyes moisten and I went back down. The sleeping beauties were all waking up and Stella was busy making tea for them.

Simon told me he was staying the night and travelling tomorrow morning. I was pleased about that, even though we couldn’t do anything at night, not with Mima in the room, it was nice to lie and cuddle with him. Sometimes that was all I wanted to do anyway, much to his disgust.

While they all drank tea, I made up a sort of communal ploughman’s, with the fresh bread I’d made earlier, a selection of cheeses, pickles and salad stuff. Tom cracked a bottle of white, and the two men drank most of it. Stella was on the wagon because of her pregnancy and I wanted to stay awake, if only as long as Mima did.

She had a bit of bread and cheese although she didn’t really eat either, just made it all wet and yucky, then gave it to the ever grateful Kiki. Spaniels, it seems, have great tolerance for what they’ll actually eat. If you don’t believe me, ask an owner what happens when you take a spaniel across a field in which there has been sheep. They’ll scoff any sheep droppings they can find, or maybe roll in them if still soft, or do both.

I suppose cats aren’t much better, they eat stuff from dustbins even though they don’t need it. They’ll happily stuff themselves on small furry things or birds–all of which might have worms or other parasites. How can they swallow feathers or furry things? I had to think of something else or I was going to regurgitate my ploughman’s.

It seemed I’d been preparing or clearing up food all day. Simon entertained Mima for ten minutes while Stella and I made up clean beds. We stripped hers afterwards and remade it. I dumped the bedclothes in the machine along with Mima’s dirty clothes and my white top–the one with the oily mark on it. I sprayed it with special detergent stuff, but I didn’t really expect the mark to wash out, not the first time.

Oil is a pain to shift, especially when it’s rubbed into the material. I have cycling tights which have it on the right leg. They’ve been washed by machine and hand and still have dirty marks on them. Believe it or not, it still shows up on black leggings.

How wonderful, my life has expanded to such a degree that my conversation revolves around toddlers and housework. I get more like a million young women every day, institutionalised into the home, something I was never going to do. I’m a career woman, chasing a PhD and wildlife film making. So what the flipping heck am I doing worrying about oil marks?

Simon took Mima up to bed, bathed her under my supervision and dressed her, then he sat and read to her for about twenty minutes. I had to go and wake him up half an hour later!

I showed Stella how to make up the bread mix and she produced the next batch for breakfast. Goodness the smell of baking bread makes my stomach rumble. It was a real effort not to succumb and eat a slice of bread I didn’t need. It was even more of one to stop Simon, who had bread knife in hand before I talked him out of it.

I snogged him for a few minutes and rubbed my boobs against him. He soon forgot about food even though all we could do was cuddle and tickle each others’ fancy.