I made my way back to the kitchen expecting to find the girls and my kitchen to be under cake mix. I was astonished to find both girls waiting for me to return and neither had scoffed all the cake mix, in fact I doubted either had eaten any.

“You haven’t eaten the cake mix?”

“No, Mummy, Twish said you send us to the home if we eated it,” said Mima, defensively.

“Hmmm, so it’s a good job you didn’t eat it then, isn’t it. For being good girls, when the cakes are baked and cooled, you can have the first ones.” They both jumped up and down shouting excitedly.

Once I calmed them down, they each got to fill a dozen paper cake cases and put them on a tray, which I then deposited into the oven. A little later, Simon walked into the kitchen and sniffed, “That smells nice, what is it?”

“Well, Delia* and Nigella* here, have created some cakes, which are busy baking themselves in the oven.”

“Oh, just in time for a cuppa, then?”

“They should be, about another five minutes, but the cooks get to taste them first, cooks perks.”

“Yeah okay,” he ambled off.

“Simon, where have you been?”

“I went up for a shower.”

“Why didn’t you shout for me to help?”

“You were busy.”

“Did Stella help?”

“Don’t be silly, besides I’m quite capable of sticking a bit of plastic bag around my leg.”

“Oh, well done.”

“It’s hardly rocket science is it.”

I sniffed, “Hang on, the cakes need to come out.” I opened the oven door and waited for the heat cloud which emerges a moment later to disperse before I bent down to remove them from the oven. They looked wonderful and when I tapped one or two they sounded nice and hollow, they were cooked. “Now girls we can leave them as they are, or we can do butterfly cakes. Which would you like to do.”

Butterfly, was the unanimous answer, I had a feeling it would be. “We have to let them cool, so I’ll pop them on this wire rack and they should be ready in half an hour or so. Now we have to make the buttercream to stick the butterflies on the cakes.

I had some butter already softening because it was a pretty sure guess they’d opt for the butterfly cakes. They each had a go at mixing the butter and sugar and once it became nice and squishy, I beat it into a cream. Normally, this would have taken me five minutes, with two helpers it took me nearly half an hour. Too many cooks? Or the sorceress’ apprentices?

The cakes had become cool enough to slice off the tops and I did one to check. This involved a knife, so I did them all. I then showed the girls how to put a dollop of cream on the top of the cake after the top was cut in half and to stick the two parts of the top into the cream like a butterfly. They had a whale of a time.

They each ate their first completed cake and I made a pot of tea after which, we took a cake and a cuppa to Simon who declared, he’d never espied such delicious looking comestibles in his life. The girls looked confused by his high fallutin’ linguistic sesquipedalia, so I explained, he thought their cakes looked absolutely delish. They chuckled and trotted back to the kitchen, where I had to stop them from scoffing any more before lunch. “You can have another one after lunch, if you eat all your lunch. Okay?”

They both nodded and said, “Yes, Mummy.” I know, I’m a heartless taskmaster. For a change, I did scrambled eggs on toast which they both ate, as did Simon and Stella. Stella seemed to disappearing rather a lot recently and I asked her after lunch how she was?

“I’m okay, getting heavier and feeling fed up with myself, my back aches much of the time. I’m also terrified of this great lump coming out of a such a small place.”

“It is designed to stretch quite a bit, Stella, unlike mine.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got your babies without any pushing.”

“In the literal sense, yes, but I’m having to push quite hard to keep them.”

“You can have this one for keeps, guaranteed,” she patted her tummy.

“Stella, please don’t say things like that, when she’s born, you’ll absolutely love her.”

“Ha, will I hell, nah, I don’t think I’m cut out for motherhood and apple pie, much more up your street.”

“You won’t know until she’s born, and if it was so bad, no one would have more than one baby, would they? Besides, when you feed her yourself, you’ll bond with her wonderfully.”

“Why don’t you feed her instead?”

“Stella, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“You might not have a womb but you have tits, with the right hormones, you could probably feed her as well.”

I was speechless, I’d read it in fiction stories on the web, was it really possible? If so I’d love to, but that would be letting Stella off easy again. I’d love to suckle a baby, but not as Stella’s wet nurse, not just for her convenience. She would be Puddin’s mother, she needed to take some responsibility not just side step it like she always had. Parenthood is not something you can just pass on to someone else.

“Stella, she’ll be your baby, don’t you feel anything for the little life you’ve been carrying around all this time?”

“Not much positive, I’ve got stretch marks on my belly and boobs, and I am sick of feeling ugly and gross.”

“But you don’t, you look beautiful, you’re absolutely blooming.”

“I’m fat and ugly. I never want to be pregnant again and I wished I got rid of this in the beginning.”

I was shocked, not to put too fine a point on it. “What about Des’ memory? This is his child too.”

“So, it could have joined him, should have joined him as soon as I realised.”

“Stella, what is upsetting you? I’ve never heard you talk like this before.”

“I told you, you try being huge and ugly all the time.”

“Oh, Stella, you’re nearly through it now, just hang on a little longer. I know you’re going to adore young Puddin’ when she arrives.”

“Shows how much you know, it’s a boy, I saw it on the scan.”

“Oh, well you’ll love him then.” I was surprised, I was sure it was going to be a girl.

“I’ve told you I won’t, so you’d better have him or I’ll give him away for adoption.”

“Please don’t do anything silly when he’s born, will you?”

“If you mean infanticide, no, but I tell you, if you don’t look after it, it goes.”

“Can we talk about this nearer the time?”

“If you want to breast feed you’ll need to see someone soon to get the lactating hormones and so on.”

“But don’t you need to feed him for a few weeks to pass on colostrum or whatever they call it?”

“I’ll see, I don’t want breasts like melons.”

Neither do I, but to save a baby, I’d take the risk. “Maybe you won’t anyway.”

“No I won’t, he’s all yours once I get him out of here, I’m outta here.” She patted her tummy and then waved her hand around the house.

“Why do you want out of here?”

“It’s like kindergarten, I’m sorry but I don’t really like babies and small children.”

I felt offended as well as surprised. “Where would you go?”

“Back to the cottage, I suppose.”

“Maybe you’re just suffering a bit of stress from the battle to keep Mima and then having Trish thrust upon us.”

“No, I’m not exactly happy with kids under my feet and I do realise how much Mima means to you, and perhaps Trish too, so you can have number three with my blessings to feed and change to your heart’s content.” I could see a tear run down her cheek, “I’m just sick and tired of it all.” With that she turned and fled back to her bedroom and locked the door.

“Is Annie Stewwa, cwoss wiv us?” asked Mima.

“No, darling, I think she’s not feeling very well at the moment, so she’s gone for a lie down. Her back is hurting her, it sometimes does when you have a baby inside you.”

“Did Mima hurt you, Mummy?” she asked me.

“No Mima, you didn’t. If you remember, I’m only your foster mummy, Janice is your real mummy.”

“Mima do’wan’t Janice as my mummy, I wan Caffy as my mummy.”

“Yes, I want Cathy as my mummy too,” said Trish who’d been listening at the door. They both grabbed me and hugged me around my legs. I held them as they held me.

“I’m trying to be the best foster mummy I can for you.”

“You are the best mummy ever,” said Trish crying.

“Yes, Mummy Caffy,” added Mima and burst into tears as well.

Simon walked into the kitchen, “Bloody hell, what do you do to these kids?”

“Just love them, Si, that’s all, honest.”

* Delia Smith & Nigella Lawson, television cooks.