After we’d put the girls to bed and they were asleep, I went to have a bath. I dropped a couple of bath bombs into the hot water and fitted the speakers to my ipod–yes, Simon got me one for Christmas, just the basic, I’m too thick to handle anything more complex. Then I stripped off and carefully stepped into the hot, scented and oily water.

I’d pinned my hair up and we have a pillow thing to hang over the edge of the bath to protect your neck, somehow I managed to sit down in the hot water, and finally, lay back feeling like a piece of ham in a saucepan. The initial sensation of boiling soon dissipates, and I know they say you shouldn’t sit in hot baths, but I wanted too. I wanted to relax and be by myself, listening to my music, letting the warm water ease my tension and allowing my mind to drift.

Some people like to have candles burning and all sorts of other relaxation aids, I’d switched off the main light and was quite able to see all I needed to. I closed my eyes and listened to Swan Lake, imagining the dancers leaping across the stage with great athleticism and elegance. Me, I’d be like a drunken hippopotamus.

My mind flitted to seeing Mima and Trish enrolled in a ballet school, doing their bit in tutus. I felt myself smile at that vision, it might never happen. To start with, I didn’t know if either or both of them might end up staying with me, so ballet classes were something of a fantasy at this stage. With Mima, I should see about a toddler group, but could I manage the time? This parenthood business was all encompassing, and some elements, a positive nuisance. I would have to get the others to help share the burden a bit more. When Puddin’ arrived, things would be even more stressful, what if we have all three of them here? Oh my goodness–I nearly ducked under the water, as if to escape the prospect, then remembered my hair.

I desperately wanted to keep the two youngsters we’d been privileged to help, because I felt I could do a reasonable job of raising them; however, a new baby and a next to useless mother, could be a bit too much. Oh well, the courts might well rule against us and that would change things dramatically. Did I really think that? No I didn’t. I was going to win that judicial review, if I had to strangle a few judges with my bare hands–okay in cycle mitts.

Dr Rose had made a submission to the court, for which I was very grateful, his word would carry some weight. The judge had been sympathetic towards my unusual path to womanhood. I had to fill in those bloody forms and send them off to the gender panel or whatever they called themselves. It could only help to have full legal status, and of course it would enable me to marry Simple Simon. I sniggered at that. He was anything but simple.

The music grabbed my mind again and I drifted into seeing the dancers moving about the stage and I must have nodded off. “Are you going to wait until you’re all white and wrinkled?”

“Uh, what?”

“Babes, it’s ten o’clock.”

“It’s what?”

“It’s ten o’clock, time to wake up and come to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, course.” My head was swimming, I’d been fully asleep. My music had stopped for some reason. “Did you switch my music off?”

“Yeah, so you didn’t nod again. It was playing Sleeping Beauty, appropriate or what?”

“Ha ha, go on bugger off, while I dry myself.”

“Don’t I get to dry my girl’s lovely body, then?”

“When you put it like that, how could I refuse?”

The inevitable happened, so for those who want the sordid details, go find an adult sex site and look up Missionary Position, it wasn’t what happened but it will give you something to think about.

I slept after our gymnastics, it’s astonishing what Simon and his bad leg can still manage, but I won’t bore you with the gruesome minutiae. I did wake needing a wee in the middle of the night, and I had a little wash, because I needed to–use your imaginations. It disturbed me and meant I couldn’t get straight back to sleep, but when the mini invasion arrived at about six in the morning, at least I could feel happy in my hygiene. I’m sure you understand, if you don’t get a book on mammalian biology and look up reproduction. I know, I can only reproduce with a photocopier, but the principle is the same, no not the photocopier bit, the biology, oh why do I bother?

In the wee sma’ ‘oors, as Tom would describe it, I lay there listening to the foxes busy out in the fields. They come into season in the winter and January is the month they mostly mate. For those who haven’t seen red foxes at it, it’s quite disconcerting if you happen to be a dog fox, as during the nooky, the vixen goes into vagismus and he is trapped by his–use your imaginations–it is an adult site after all–for up to a couple of hours. If you can imagine a modern locomotive, with a drive unit at each end, facing away from each other, that’s our foxes–the dog, being led around by his…um dangly bits–for some reason–the picture is quite enjoyable to some women.

It was daylight when I fully awoke, with a little body inserted between me and the edge of the bed. I had my arm around it and it was fast asleep–the child not my arm. From the colour of the hair, I surmised it was Trish. My own fault, I hadn’t told them not to come in to our bed.

At eight, I decided to break up the slumber party and organise three bodies for breakfast, Simon could organise himself. The vision of foxes squealing in the night flashed through my mind–no wonder the dog howled, I’ll bet Simon would too.

I washed and dressed the two little ones, they had similar jeans and tops, and I dressed similarly myself. Trish was still wobbly but she was walking more and more. After breakfast, I left a message for Dr Rose to call me.

I was in the middle of baking cakes, or at least making a sponge mix with the girls, when the phone rang. “Si, can you get that?” I called into the lounge, where our resident couch potato was reclining, resting his leg.

The phone carried on ringing. “Don’t touch anything until I come back,” I cautioned the tots, then dashed off towards the phone. “Hello?”

“Cathy, it’s Sam Rose,”

“Oh hi, Sam. I need to speak to you about Trish.”

“What’s happened, she isn’t ill?”

“No, not at all, just how much walking should she do at first?”

“You’ve got her walking?”

“It wasn’t exactly me, she saw Mima staggering about in a pair of my heels, and she had to have a try–she’s been walking ever since.”

“Geez, that is brilliant; have you told the home?”

“No, I thought I’d wait for them to contact me.”

“I knew you’d pull it off if anyone could.”

“I’d, um, like to keep her.”

“Oh yes, I wonder why that is?”

“She had me in tears the other day, she told me she had never chosen any of her own clothes before.”

“Oh, I thought they did, it’s quite a progressive home as these things go.”

“She also didn’t seem to realise that she could keep the doll’s pram we bought her.”

“You’re spoiling her, Cathy, which is exactly what I thought you would do.”

“I wondered if you could recommend her staying with us a bit longer, and how do I explain why she keeps calling me mummy despite me telling her not to.”

“I shall certainly support her staying with you for longer, although they’ll have to do some checks on you and so forth. It’s a private charity but they still have to conform to certain legal protocols.”

“So how come she’s here already? “

“Mobilising her was the priority and I knew you’d come up with the goods.”

“Will that count in fostering her?”

“I’m sure it will, I’ll recommend you need to keep her for at least a month to make sure she doesn’t relapse.”

“The only problem there is, if she stays the month and they then take her back, she’s going to be completely distraught.”

“I’m sure something will work out to her best interests, the charity really does try to look after it’s charges.”

“What about her calling me mummy?”

“Would you prefer daddy?”

“Sam, don’t be silly, you know what I mean?”

“She sees you as a mother substitute, and is bonding with you, it’s all powerful stuff in your favour, you know.”

“As long as they don’t think I encouraged it. She copied Mima, who used it despite my objections.”

“I see you’re totally in control there, I have every confidence in you.”

“Just don’t send any more waifs and strays, remember we’re going to have a new home produced individual in a few weeks.”

“Oh yes, damn, I’ll have to reduce the list of kids I needed miracles performed on.”

“Sam, you are getting close to finding two toddlers chained to your car tonight.”

“Oh, like that is it?”

“I’m stretched to the limits of my coping abilities, I really mean it.”

“Do you want me to have one of them removed?”

“Yeah, how about Simon?”

“Simon, you mean Lord wotsisname?”

“I’m only joking, but it is hard work, most families have a year or two between children, unless they have twins.”

“So, you’ve got heterozygous twins.”

“There’s a two year gap between them?”

“Yeah, so what are you complaining about?”

“Sam, I’m going, we’re making cakes and I suspect they’re eating all the mix.”

“I have a patient to see, if you decide to continue miracle working, we might be able to find you a room on the children’s unit.”

“I shall stick to dormice, Sam, I know what I’m doing with them.”