I went down the stairs after washing my face, I couldn’t face them, so I slipped into the kitchen and started the pasta bake. About ten minutes later, Mima came to see me.

“Gwandad says you’ve been cwyin’.”

“Yes, I peeled some onions, they always make me cry.”

“I wuv you, Mummy,” she said hugging my legs.

“I know, Sweetheart.” I picked her up and kissed her, then hugged her.

“Wotyoumakin’?”

“A special type of like a pie, called a pasta bake, we use these strips of pasta and we add some tuna and some sauce and one or two other bits and pieces and pop it in the oven.”

“Is it nice?”

“It’s lovely, do you want to try some when it’s cooked.”

“Yes pwease.”

“Okay, I’ll keep you some, do you want a drink or an apple?” She opted for the drink and toddled off with a carrot to chew on.

While the kettle boiled Stella came out to my hideaway. “Oh, you’ve got the kettle on, good oh.”

“Who wants what?”

“Simon and I want tea, Tom will have some of the tar he calls coffee.” I made the teas and added some hot water to Tom’s coffee maker.

“There you go, with a mince pie for everyone, sorry they’re shop bought, I didn’t have time to make any.”

“You can make mince pies?”

“They’re very easy, especially with tinned mincemeat and frozen pastry. They don’t take that long if you have to make the pastry, but I’m not a good pastry cook, my hands are too warm.”

“What difference does that make?”

“Lots apparently: according to one chef I knew, his assistant made better pastry than he could and when she did, everyone in the kitchen used to beg some to take home to make pies and things.”

“Oh come on, Cathy, that’s an urban myth, surely?”

“I spoke to the man himself, he was doing a course I was on making soups. He was magical, and we learned about so many things that day.”

“You certainly make good soup.”

“Yes and Simon can certainly pack it away. That reminds me, I need to make another loaf for breakfast. Mima seems to like bread for her brekkies.”

“While you were upstairs, she said she didn’t like bread before you made it for her, she said you were the best mummy, ever.”

“I wouldn’t have thought she’d have noticed something like that, the bread I mean. I suppose it’s because I’ve let her help me make it now and again. Send her out and she can help me again, she likes tipping the stuff in the bread machine.”

“By the way, we all think you’re the best mummy ever, even Tom.” She winked at me.

“One of these days, that Tom Agnew’s great gob is going to get him into all sorts of bother, but thanks for saying so.”

She came over as I thought to pick up the tray, instead she gave me as big a hug as she could with Puddin’ taking up some of the room. Then she picked up the tray and went into the lounge.

Mima came out and I shoved the pasta bake into the oven, glancing at the time as I did so. Then it was getting out the flour and yeast and so on for the bread machine. We weighed up the amounts and Mima popped them in the machine, poured in the water and I closed the lid and switched it on. Her eyes got bigger as it began mixing the ingredients, making a grinding noise and vibrating. Once that was done, she disappeared back to the lounge I presumed to cuddle with Simon. Oh well, I’d get over it.

I was busy washing up the mess from doing the pasta when a hand touched my shoulder and I jumped, nearly into the sink. “Careful, you nearly had me over then,” said a male voice.

“Sorry, Si, I didn’t hear you with the tap running.”

“I came to apologise.”

“What for?”

“For not being as useful as I could be.”

“You and thirty million other British males.”

“I’m trying to be serious about this. My leg hurts, but I could do more.”

“I’m sorry, maybe I’m just tired.” I turned and he kissed me, very gently but sensuously.

“I know, you work so hard for us. We do appreciate it, and we do love you.”

“I know, I’m just sad Tom had to tell you all.”

“Yeah, okay, so he did. I’m a bloke, I need to be told–apparently.”

“You keep Mima from under my feet when I’m in the kitchen.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not when I’m cooking or clearing up, other times I do sometimes worry that she likes you more than me.” I felt a tear forming in my eyes. “I know it’s silly, but…”

“I think she’s playing us off against each other, kids do.”

“No, Si, she seems to prefer to sit or lie with you more than me.”

“Only because you’re always on the go, I sit down and she brings me a book to read to her, or pretends to read it to me. She can’t do that with you, you’re making the next meal or doing housework, or stuff for the film or the uni. You’re so busy. She actually said the other night that she likes you to read to her as well.”

“When I have the time…”

“She said you were always so busy, so she uses the default position, Stella, Tom or me. It isn’t rocket science.”

“I’ve been so foolish,” I said choking up as I did, tears began to run down my cheeks. “Will you forgive me?”

“What for, for being so beautiful I want to carry you up to bed this moment, but my bad leg won’t let me.”

“You silly bugger,” I said and let him hug me, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Don’t push too hard, I’ll fall over,” he said, which sort of broke the romantic spell.

“Am I forgiven?” I asked.

“No, because there was nothing to forgive, except tiredness and worry. We all love you, Cathy, me most of all, except Mima might give me a run for my money, and Tom of course–despite all this going on, he acts like he’s ten years younger than he actually is. In two years time he has to become Emeritus professor.”

“Why?”

“He’s sixty eight, at seventy he’s supposed to retire, but they always have this fall back position, don’t they?”

“I was never sure what emeritus meant.”

“Retired, is the short answer.”

“Gosh. I forget he’s that age, mind you he looks good on it.”

“When he first started the negotiations with the bank regarding our sponsorship of your dormouse campaign and some of the survey, he looked quite a bit older.”

“Did he?”

“Then you started to live with him, and he suddenly looked so much better.”

“I’d have thought having me here would have made him look older.”

“You silly goose, he wanted to parent you, you reminded him so much of his daughter, that when you came here, he suddenly had another chance and you played into his hands.”

“That sounds as if there was something sinister about it.”

“No, he was hoping you’d stay here, then when we all moved in, he must have had quite a shock, but he said he liked the house being full of younger people again. It gave him some purpose and like an instant family. Then Mima turns up, and it makes it even better, he gets to play granddad, something he never thought he would do.”

“And I thought I was a problem.”

“Cathy, you are a dreadful problem, makes the banking crisis and middle east conflict pale into insignificance, beside you–how’s that, bad enough? Or can we tell the truth and say, you are wonderful, the best foster mum any dormouse could wish for.” he pecked me on the cheek and limped off quickly while I was helpless with laughter.

“Is you all wight, Mummy?” asked a little voice.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said wiping a tear from my eyes, “Would you like me to read to you?”

“Can we dwess my dowwy instead, pwease.”

“Of course we can, you go and get her and the clothes you want her to wear.”