‘I guess it was Daddy,’ Charlotte said, matter-of-factly. ‘He kept grabbing me and putting me in my room. He said I was being annoying. And he got really cross when I opened the present for the party.’

‘Why did you open the present for the party?’ Alice asked, although she knew. Anything wrapped, anything she couldn’t see, any suggestion of a surprise, increased Charlotte’s anxiety. That’s why any wrapped gifts were kept out of sight, in the pantry, until they were about to leave. She’d explained it very carefully to Ted a number of times.

‘It was on the table…’ Charlotte said, her voice small. ‘When I came down for breakfast, it was there…’ She tailed off, her tone laden with shame. ‘I’m sorry Mummy.’

Alice felt her heart pumping, her anger building. Don’t lose it in front of the children, she told herself. She leaned down and kissed Charlotte’s head. What must it be like to spend all day apologising for who you are, she thought.

‘It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. I’m just going to talk to Daddy, okay?’

*

Ted was waiting for her downstairs, his hopes that Charlotte wouldn’t have said anything visibly departing as he crossed his arms in defence.

‘I suppose she told you what happened?’ he said sharply.

‘Why don’t you tell me what happened?’ Alice replied, her voice scathing.

‘Look, I lost my temper. I told her not to touch the present, but did she listen? Not only did she open it, she built it! I couldn’t even wrap it back up!’

‘I told you to leave it in the pantry until it was time to go.’

‘I didn’t want to forget it. I took it out the night before and left it on the table.’

‘But you knew she’d open it. She can’t bear for things to be wrapped up. That’s why I left it in the pantry, so she wouldn’t see it. Why don’t you listen to anything I say?’

‘It’s ridiculous. Hiding things and pandering to her. She has to learn—’

‘No!’ Alice said firmly. ‘No. You! You have to learn. You can’t set traps for her to fall into and then get cross with her when she does! You’ve hurt her. Her arm is bruised!’

‘I had to lock her in her room! She was attacking me! Scratching at my arm, kicking my leg!’ He proffered his forearm to Alice, visibly marked. ‘What was I supposed to do?’

‘Not lock her in! She’s not an animal. What’s wrong with you?’

This questioning of him – rather than condemnation of Charlotte – only incensed Ted further.

‘Because she’s not right, Alice! There’s something wrong with her!’

‘She’s autistic, Ted. When are you going to accept that?’

Ted shook his head angrily, breathing through flared nostrils.

‘It’s my fault, isn’t it? Everything’s always my fault. If only I could be as “good” as you. Or as “good” as Mr Hough.’ He made air quotes with his index fingers, his face fixed into a sneer.