"Sorry, I am such fool!" I managed to stutter out, immediately feeling that sensation of guilt as I looked across to him. He looked shocked and possibly in pain. When I had managed to sit up straight, my legs entangled in my poor ill-used bicycle, I thought I heard his voice telling me to "take a minute". My eyes were failing me and I couldn't see him at all, my head spinning so. The pavement of Poplar did not even feel safe to stand on.

As he sat up properly, I saw him hold his shoulder. I saw him stagger to his feet and him offer me his hand.

As we all picked ourselves up off the floor, clear that Cynthia had seemingly done some unpleasant damage to her elbow, I could see even more of a crowd gathering than there had been before. I felt a hand on my arm as I was guided to sit on a window ledge as, as soon as I tried to walk, I suddenly felt oh so nauseous and disorientated. I could see Trixie, Jenny, Cynthia - all of them - in various states of shock but the humming noise in my head was refusing to allow me to hear what anyone was saying.

I spent most of the next few minutes staring at my feet desperately trying to breathe through the pain in my head and the sick feeling in my stomach, avoiding the gaze of the women and children that had suddenly appeared out of the houses and alleyways. What a sight we must have been – 4 midwives in full uniform cannoning into a sole Policeman who had been quietly minding everyone else's business directing traffic.

I recognised some of the crowd from my rounds too which made it altogether far too worse. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy, only about 6 years of age, pick up one of the bicycle bells that had come loose. I was too dazed to think it was theft and ignored him as the black of a Police Uniform stood before me. I looked up.

"Are you alright, Nurse? You don't look well at all". His voice sounded miles away, almost echoing through my head.

I just about struggled out the words "I'll be just fine. Don't you worry about me" with forced jollity.

How odd it was that I only noticed his eyes, eyelashes so long that were so wrong to be worn on a man. Why did I think to look there? He was about to arrest me so why was I noticing his eyelashes?

He walked over to where Cynthia and Trixie were standing. Jenny came and sat with me and I felt her take my wrist checking my pulse. I heard vague words that it was racing but at that moment I really could not have cared. I was more concerned that Cynthia was still holding her elbow and with Trixie's obvious attempt at flirtatious distraction with the Policeman as he wrote in his pocket book.

He did not look impressed at all and I was hoping on hope that I would not be summonsed and I would have to stand up in front of a judge and tell him that "Yes, your Honour, it was my fault and I did knock over that rather beautiful looking Policeman". It was my fault, most things in life seemed to be my fault, so I would never let any of the girls take any blame whatsoever. I do believe I had shown up to my new colleagues be what Mater had always said I was – "a disaster".

I saw him finish talking to Cynthia and Trixie and he nodded to Jenny. I didn't hear any of the conversation they had had and Jenny was by me talking of concussion, broken bones and telephoning Dr Turner. Her words were just a jumble.

How would Mater react if I was arrested and hauled before the Courts? She was already ashamed of me for wanting to work, so deep down inside some part of me wondered whether it would make a difference. She would say it was typical that I had embroiled myself in this life that being arrested was inevitability if I was going to mix in these circles. I would sit, my ears burning as she paced the floor, talking of her shame, her injury and how she would be ostracised by her circle. What was I thinking? Of course I would be arrested. I had just cannoned into an Officer of Law and caused him Lord knows what injury so it was inevitable.

"Chummy? Can you stand up?" Jenny said in my ear. I took a steadying breath as I heard Trixie list out all our names to the Policeman. I prayed she would not use my full name and when she just said "Camilla Browne" I breathed deeply for the first time in minutes. I am sure he would think odd of me if he knew that his assailant clearly did not belong here.

I heard him say he would come to Nonnatus that afternoon to speak to the Sisters. That was it. I may have well just gone back there and packed my bags there and then. I had already failed in the eyes of Sister Evangelina, so my dreams were shattered before they had even started. I wanted to curl up, there in the street, and fall asleep until everything was better.

I watched Trixie get back on her bike, going back to Nonnatus to fetch one of the Sisters and Cynthia walked over to sit next to me, holding her arm until I felt her take mine in comfort. I had hurt her too; hurt someone I hoped I could consider a friend. It only added to my guilt even though her concern for me was clear on her face. I only hoped I could express one day how sorry I was and hope that she did not judge me.

I could not speak to the Officer through fear, shyness and shame but that said, he barely said a word to me either only to ask after my health and not to berate my carelessness as I would perhaps have expected. I braced myself for a ticking off; well more than a ticking off, but none came.

I took note of his badge number, a shiny "P 127" on his shoulder. I wanted to apologise in peace as I could not bear it if he thought even more ill of me even though I did not know him from the next man in the street.

Later that night, as I had been confined to bed by Dr Turner, Sister Julienne brought word that I would not be dismissed nor charged. I dare not ask why; she may never have known herself, but as I fell asleep that night I played it over in my head.

Why on earth had he not charged me? Surely, this must be my imagination playing games. I could have knocked him unconscious, killed him even, yet he was not going to charge me?

It made me ever more nervous; the unknown of why this perfect stranger would be so….I struggled over the words. Kind? No. Understanding? Maybe. Forgiving? Yes.

Even more so I knew I needed to walk to the Police Station as soon as I could and apologise.