Hi, my name is Louise. I'm raising money to help my five-year-old niece Dorothy get through cancer treatment.

Before I tell you about the cancer, I need to tell you about Dorothy - because Dorothy is the kind of person who deserves the whole internet in her corner.

Her laugh is my favourite sound in the world. It's a full granny cackle coming out of a tiny baby face - utterly ridiculous, completely infectious, impossible not to join in with. My second favourite thing is her tantrum pout. I cannot describe it in a way that does it justice, but I promise you - it's funny every single time.

Dorothy is five years old. She has never spent a night in a hospital in her life.

Until now.

It started with "my tummy hurts."

If you have children, you know those words. You hear them constantly. You reach for the Calpol, you move on. Dorothy's mum - my sister Heather - did all the right things. She took Dorothy to the GP again and again. Treatments were tried. Some worked for a while. But the tummy ache always came back.

Heather pushed for an ultrasound. Just to check. A routine referral to Southend Hospital - a "let's rule things out" kind of appointment.

That appointment changed everything.

Within minutes of the results, an ambulance was called. No time to go home. No time to pack a bag. Dorothy and Heather were blue-lighted to Great Ormond Street Hospital with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

It turned out - Dorothy has rhabdomyosarcoma cancer.

For the next week at GOSH, Dorothy had tubes fitted, biopsies taken, bone marrow harvested, and every investigation imaginable. All of it, at five years old, in a place she had never been before.

Heather has barely left Dorothy's side since. Heathers employer is being incredibly supportive and is doing all it can during this during this difficult

Jack - Dorothy's dad - is doing exactly the same, still working full time to keep the family afloat. There every minute he can spare from work.

These are not people sitting back and hoping for the best. They are working as hard as they can while raising a seriously ill child, travelling back and forth to the hospital, and somehow keeping everything from falling apart. They are exhausted. And they are doing it anyway.

GOSH has been incredible. Dorothy has been accepted onto a chemotherapy trial - which is genuinely good news. But it comes with a schedule that will push this already stretched family even further.

Here's what the next 27 weeks look like:

Some weeks, Dorothy will be an inpatient at GOSH. Other weeks, she'll need to travel from Southend-on-Sea to central London every single day for treatment.

The train fare alone can reach £38 per day for one adult return. Over 27 weeks, that adds up fast.

But chemotherapy also leaves Dorothy vulnerable to infection, so the train isn't always safe. The alternative is driving, which means petrol, London congestion charges, and central London parking. Also not cheap.

Jack needs to be there on the days Heather cannot. And there will be days when both of them need to be there - for Dorothy, and for each other.

Their friends and family are wonderful and already doing everything they can. But everyone works. There's only so much anyone can give.

This fund will go towards:

Dorothy has the fight of her life ahead of her - and she’s now going into her second week of treatment. She also has that extraordinary laugh, and the most magnificent pout you've ever seen, and a mum and dad who are already giving absolutely everything they have.

If you've found your way here and you don't know us - if this story has simply found you and touched your heart - please know that any contribution will make a real difference to a real little girl. Dorothy might not know you, but right now she needs you. Any donation, no matter how small, will go a long way.