It's the start of The Crazy.

Here's how it goes...

Inside my head, I am putting my feet up. All of me. There's Logical Bea, and Inner Therapist Bea, and Bea The Tiny Child Who Just Can't Take Things On The Chin, and - well, you get the idea. We're knitting, or dozing, or reading, or just plain staring into the fire. After all, the work's done now. Nothing to do but wait.

Then, all of a sudden, there's Bitchface.

"Move," she says, going over to Hopeful Bea, who is snuggling with the dog.

"I don't see why she should have to," says Inner Therapist. "She's been sitting there for a while now."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not sure why," Bitchface says icily, and stares Hopeful hard in the face til she bursts into tears and runs from the room.

"Why don't you run after her?" she asks Maternal Bea, pointedly nonchalant and settling herself in.

"Now look here, young lady-" Maternal begins, but Bitchface cuts her off.

"Where's Logical Bea?" she demands, looking around. There is a brief pause with much looking backwards and forwards whilst Logical tries to disappear behind a book. "There you are. You're with me, aren't you?"

"Well, er... it's um..."

"Of course you are! Our best embryo this time is our worst embryo yet. It's worse than the one they said was too crappy to worry about in the first transfer. The nurses were biting their tongues to keep from spitting out a cheery, 'See you next time!' as we walked out along the corridor.

"And as for her!" Bitchface swings to glare at Hopeful, who is timidly trying to re-enter the room. "Little Miss 'I'm not going to buy feminine hygiene products - no!' I saw everyone gather round, cheering, 'Good for you!' when the reality is we'll have a full two days' warning between pessaries and period. Oh yeah - that's bravery! We stare menstruation in the face and laugh! You're all pathetic."

"That's enough!" Inner Therapist stands to her full height.

"I knew we hadn't heard the last from you. What will you do? Mount an intervention?"

Inner Therapist and Maternal Instinct exchange the briefest of looks before springing into simultaneous action. There's a flurry of arms and legs, and Bitchface is hurled bodily from the room. They drag Hopeful inside and slam shut the door.

There is silence.

"I didn't know you could do kung fu," ventures Bea The Tiny Child Who Just Can't Take Things On The Chin.

"Well, I guess we've got tough," says Therapist.

Everyone stands, awkward. Logical clears her throat, and hesitates.

"Well, what is it?" asks Maternal.

"Oh, nothing. Just... well, she wasn't entirely wrong about everything."

"Come now," says Therapist. "I know you can do better than that. Work on it."

"Yes, absolutely. What about that definition of best I came up with?"

"Perfect."

So, gradually, we return to our previous occupations.

And we all pretend we can't hear the scratching and the sniggering at the door.

And no-one looks at anyone else when the voice comes through the keyhole.

"I know you can still hear me..."

Bitch.