Kirsty

We couldn't get near the Royal Infirmary. The police had set up road blocks and were only letting through accident and emergencies. The hospital has been shut to flu admissions.

We parked at the Cameron Toll shopping centre and walked through side streets up to the hospital. There was a huge crowd of people outside the entrance. I heard someone saying the hospital had received a supply of Tamiflu and part of me wanted to join in - the chance of getting some protection for the family almost overtook me, but Graham pulled me round the other side of the hospital where our friend let us in through an emergency exit.

Inside it seemed strangely quiet - particularly compared to our last visit. Our friend explained that up to 40% of staff were not in work, and that of those who were in some had been working for up to 72 hours without a break. Wearing our masks and white coats we were never challenged as we made our way up to Kirsty's ward.

I've never believed in "mother's intuition" but I knew we were too late. Graham told me not to be so stupid but I could see from the way that he snapped at me that he had the same worry.

As we turned the corner I immediately knew Kirsty had gone. The ward lights were out and only one nurse was in the staff base speaking to someone on the phone. She explained, in a very matter of fact way, that Kirsty had died that afternoon. The other patients had been moved to the new centre in Penicuik.

Graham, who had been so strong, dropped to his knees. Kirsty and Graham had always had a special bond - something I'd almost been jealous of - and now he'd lost his girl. We were left in the room together standing at the side of her empty bed for what seemed like ages until our friend came in and led us down to the mortuary. He spoke to the woman on the door and took us into a room with lots of trolleys with bodies lying neatly in lines with the sheet pulled up over their faces. She stopped abruptly beside one trolley and pulled back the sheet. It wasn't Kirsty. I almost hoped there had been some mistake. Perhaps she had been sent to Penicuik? But at the very next trolley our hopes were broken - Kirsty lay there so peacefully. It reminded me of all the times I'd gone into the kids rooms to watch them sleeping. Even as they had got older it had been a special time and in strange way this seemed no different.

In my own mind I'd tried to imagine what this moment might have been like, particularly after Jenny's funeral, but I'd been wrong - I was numb, just numb - nothing else.

Again we were left alone and we said our goodbyes. I had to eventually pull Graham away as we needed to get home to David and Libby. I was surprised by my own strength, where it's coming from I don't know.

We got back to the car and drove home. The moment the kids laid eyes on us they knew what had happened. Libby ran to her room and David just stood there. I just held him in my arms while Graham ran after Libby.

We will get through this - for Kirsty.