“Pity I wasn’t there, we only put him in that room because he was annoying everyone else. Oh the baby unit were looking for you, hang on.” She picked through a pile of papers, “Here, I hope it makes sense.”

It did, it gave the time of the appointment with Karen–tomorrow at ten. Well it was better than nine. I’d have to ask Tom to watch Mima again. I suppose I’d better buy him an Easter egg, one made by Glenfiddich or similar, and bottle shaped.

“By the way, where is my future pa in law?” I asked.

“He discharged himself.”

“You mean he walked out by himself?”

“No some chauffer type came and got him.”

“Okay, thanks.” I left sending Henry a text as I walked.

‘Where R U? Will initi8 search party if not heard in 1 hour.
Luv Cathy.’

I was driving into Tesco when I heard my phone beep. I parked and looked at the text.

‘Took ur advice, do come 4 dinner. H’

‘What do I do with ur laundry? C’ I replied.

‘Bring it when u come 2 dinner H.’

‘Who is going to babysit? C. ’

‘Not my prob. H’

This was followed by a second a moment later, ‘come 2 lunch & bring em with u. Let me know when. H.’

I decided that was enough for now and went and did the shopping. Cor, the price of good booze is not cheap–still bribery never is. I got one or two other things as well and went home.

Tom had taken the girls home and they’d all fallen asleep on the sofa by the time I got there. I didn’t realise eating pizza was such hard work. I hid Tom’s bottle in the kitchen and started to get the dinner ready, not that they’d need too much, so I thought a quiche with a salad would do.

A sleepy looking Trish came out and hugged my bum–I was standing at the sink at the time. It still made me jump. “You were gone such a long time, Mummy.”

“Yes I know, sweetheart, things took longer than I thought. Anyway, I’ve found a nice new doctor to help you, and we’re going tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” this was said with disappointment, although hardly unexpected. “Do we have to?”

“Trish Watts, of course we have to. I told you before that we need to show people that your being a girl is your idea, not mine.”

“I don’t care what they think,” she threw back with nonchalance.

“But I do, besides if they got the wrong idea, they could try to take you away from me.”

“Don’t let them do that, Mummy.” I could hear her crying and she was rubbing her face in my hip.

I sat her down at the table and discussed it with her. “Look, sweetheart, we’re going to see Dr Nicholson who’s very nice, I had lunch with her today. She’s a friend of Dr Rose.”

“If she saw you, why do I have to go?” I couldn’t fault the logic, and this child wasn’t in school yet–it was frightening in some ways.

“It’s not me who wants to be a girl, I am one, remember?”

“So am I, Mummy.”

“I know, darling, but to make sure it’s your decision and that you still want to stay one, we have to see someone official, usually a doctor of some sort.”

“That other lady frightened me, she was horrid to you as well.”

“Yes, she was darling, but we won’t see her ever again, the hospital won’t let her go there again. She was very naughty and a policeman took her away.”

“Did he bash her with his stick?”

“His truncheon? I doubt it. By then she’d have calmed down.” But it’s a nice thought, one which I didn’t share with Trish. “But, I promise Dr Nicholson will be nicer than that awful woman and we have to go and see her.”

“Okay, Mummy, will you come with me?”

“Of course I will.”

“Thank you.” She hugged me again, grateful for something I saw as my duty and obligation, but on the other hand, I never turn down a hug.

The other sleeping beauty arrived, probably hearing us talking. “Mummmeeeee,” she shrieked and jumped up on my lap. She hugged me like hybrid between a limpet and an octopus. I almost did a count at one point to make sure she hadn’t grown extra arms. When she’d finished crushing me, she looked at Trish. “Why is Twish cwyin’?”

“I’m not,” answered Trish, “I had something in my eye.”

“Are you alwight, now?”

“Yes, Meems, I am.”

“Well how’s my favourite three year old?” I asked holding onto Mima.

“I’m fine, Mummy.” I wondered who she’d heard saying that, probably me.

“Right, come along youse twose, let’s get tea finished. It’s salad and quiche.”

“What’s kees?” asked Trish.

“Quiche, it’s a French form of bacon and egg flan with some cheese and tomato thrown in for good measure. You’ll like it.”

“I don’t think I like it, Mummy.”

“Oh well don’t have any, you can have a Marmite sandwich instead.”

“I wike it, Mummy,” she said hugging my leg.

“You, Mima, like anything–you’re a bigger dustbin than Kiki.”

“Me not a dussbin, me a wittew girw–naughty, Mummy,” so saying she smacked me on the bum.

“Hoy, you can stop that as quick as you like, it isn’t funny.” With that, Meems burst into tears and for no reason whatsoever, at least none known to me, Trish followed suit.

Just then Tom walked in, “Och I should hae known it, yer mither’s hame, an’ yer baith greetin’.”