I woke feeling a little body getting into bed with me, and assumed it was Trish. I was so tired I drifted off quite quickly, I think. I was eventually woken by Simon, who pinched my bottom and asked if I was going to get up.

“I feel exhausted,” I said, yawning to prove my point.

“I don’t, I’m raring to go.”

I closed my eyes again hoping it was a bad dream. It wasn’t, because a younger voice said, “Mummy, can we have some breakfast?” I did think about the line my mother used to quote, ‘I’m going to change my name to Daddy,’ but somehow it didn’t seem quite appropriate.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting up.” I half remember rolling out of bed and nearly squashing Trish in the process. Then I staggered into the bathroom, used the loo, washed my hands and face and went downstairs, followed by two shadows.

Cereal, toast and drinks were produced on autopilot and while my delicate eaters shoved food down their throats like there was no tomorrow, I went to see where Stella was. I knocked on her room and she called, “Come in,” so I did.

“Fancy a cuppa?” I said hoping it would break the ice.

“That would be nice, thanks. Oh, Cathy, sorry if I was crabby last night, my back was hurting.”

“That’s okay, I half thought as much. How is it today?”

“Sore, I don’t know why.”

“Hormones relax the ligaments supporting the spine.”

“How come you know this and I don’t?”

“All my previous pregnancies have involved dormice, I know lots about those, human ones, I thought I better bone up on. It’s all on the internet.”

“I’ve rather stupidly tried to ignore it all, but the truth is, in less than two months I shall have a squawking infant for whom I shall be responsible.”

“You’ll be a mother, Stella, the apotheosis of the human experience.”

“Eh? Doesn’t that exclude half the population?”

“It’s a personal opinion.”

“Aren’t you a bit hyper-feminist?”

“Perhaps, probably from joining the team a little late.”

“On permanent transfer?”

“Absolutely,” I beamed a smile at her.

She smirked back, “You silly bugger. Where are the kids, is Simon watching them?”

“Oh shit, gotta dash.” I ran back down the stairs. It so happened the girls were still sitting at their places, pretending to feed toast to their dollies.

Simon lumbered down a few moments later. “Wot no tea or coffee?” Instead of decking him, which was my first inclination, I treated his remark as a wind up and refused to play the game.

“Kettle has boiled,” was all I said, and he made a pot of tea and two mugs of coffee.

“Can you take Stella up some coffee, or is she coming down?”

“I’ll take it up to her, can you watch the kids?”

“Babes, I haven’t had my own breakfast yet?”

“Neither have I, I’m up with Stella for a few minutes, can you wipe Mima’s paws before you let her run amok?” I picked up a mug of tea and one of coffee before he could respond, and went up to Stella.

We had a useful chat, it seems Simon was telling the truth last night. Stella did think of me as her sister and was jealous of my apparent success in fostering not one but two children.

I told her I was jealous of her ability to produce her own offspring and be Puddin’s mother. She said she’d swap the discomfort of pregnancy for competence in fostering, anyday.

We hugged and buried the hatchet. As we stood holding each other, I felt Puddin’ was lower in her tummy than before. ‘She’s not going to go two more months’, went through my mind.

“Have you packed for the hospital, when you go in for the baby, I mean?”

“Yes, my little case is all done from when I went before. You know what’s in it you packed it.”

“I did? Oh well, it’ll be perfect for an ordinary visit, but not necessarily a maternity one.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are supposed to take in babygros and various other bits and pieces for the baby.”

“Are you? I suppose you would. Do I have to take nappies?”

“I should think so.”

“I have some of those, but I don’t have much for a new born.”

“I think we’d better go shopping and soon.”

“Could you do it? I’ll watch the girls.”

“Stella, this is your baby, do you want to trust the potential direction of it’s fashion sense to a total novice?”

“No, but I trust my sister to do her best for both of us.”

“I’ll take the girls with me, it’ll remind them we’re having a new baby.”

“How could they forget with my belly tending to dominate anything smaller than a football pitch?”

“Okay, it’ll bring a new sense of reality to the subject, and they’ll love it. For them, it’ll be like dressing a life size doll.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that, I was serious about you breast feeding, if you want.”

“I think that as much as I’d love to, I’ll maybe share your second one with you.”

“What? You surely don’t think I’ll do this again?”

“I believe lots of women do, so it can’t be that awful.”

“I tell you what, we’ll have a second but you can do the pregnancy thing, the maternity clothes, being unable to see your feet, back pain and running to the loo: I’ll do the baby sitting with the others.”

“Okay,” I said, “you have a deal.” We shook hands on it and giggled.

“You’d actually enjoy it wouldn’t you?”

“Every second,” I finished my tea and went to collect the girls and shower and dress them.

I decided I would shower them one at a time, if Trish stayed with us, then I’d have to work out perhaps with some advice, how to tell Mima about Trish’s anatomical imperfection. Until then, I thought it better to keep it quiet.

So I took them individually into the bathroom and showered and dried them. Trish seemed to understand the reason even without me explaining, and by the time I had Mima dried, Trish had more or less dressed herself in the clothes I put out on the bed.

Once Mima was dressed, I cautioned them to behave and keep clean, and jumped in the shower myself, ten minutes later I was dried, except my hair and pulling on my bra and pants. When I went back into the bedroom, both of the kids were clomping around in my shoes and giggling. Trish had managed to get on a pair of my boots, and was walking about very stiff legged, the tops of the boots disappeared under her dress and probably were rubbing on her bum.

I dressed chuckling to myself at their antics. Then I had an audience as I did my makeup, and I felt quite self-conscious, they were starring intently at every move I made–it’s quite intimidating. I sprayed myself with scent and squirted a cheaper one on both of them, which made them giggle even more.

Finally, I did my hair, retrieved my boots from Trish and we were nearly ready to go. “Will you be able to walk for a bit, Trish?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“Because I can’t carry you. If you aren’t sure, I’ll take the wheelchair.”

“I’ll be alright, Mummy, where are we going, anyway?”

“We are going shopping to buy some things for Auntie Stella’s baby.”
They both skipped around the room with anticipation. “It’ll be a bit like buying clothes for a real dolly.” That got them giggling even more. I made them go to the toilet and then we put our coats on and I just opened the door to be confronted by a tall woman, from whom Trish shrank and hid behind my legs.

“Lady Cameron?”

“Yes,” I know it wasn’t quite correct, but sometimes it’s easier to go along than challenge.

“I’m Nora Cunningham, manager of St Nicholas’ Children’s Home.”