‘Yes, she said. I was there. She was… strange. She didn’t tell me what’s happened.’

‘She doesn’t have to tell you everything.’

‘I’m her best friend.’

‘But it’s impossible to know everything about a person. Do you tell her everything?’

Crying. My heart breaking. It’s all my fault, Mel. I can’t bear it.

‘Pretty much.’ I always have.

‘Well, don’t push her. Look, I’m almost there, is there anything else?’

I scratch at some dried ketchup with my thumbnail, unsure whether to tell him about my discovery over the phone when I can’t see his face, gauge his reaction.

‘Lucy? What’s wrong?’

‘I found a pair of knickers under the seat in the car.’

‘They’re probably Hailey’s,’ he says without hesitation.

‘That’s what Mel thought.’

‘I’m pulling up outside the stables now. I’ve got to go,’ he says before I can ask whether a mechanic at the garage is the more likely option. ‘Lucy, I… I do love you.’

He rings off before I can tell him that I love him too.

I’ve had a coffee and hung out the washing by the time Kieron’s film is finished.

He’s been in bed for thirteen hours but he still looks exhausted. Although I hope that Mr Peters is right – this is the lingering effects of Kieron’s last infection – I can’t help worrying this is the beginning of ongoing deterioration of his liver. It’s so incredibly difficult as a mother to put your trust entirely in somebody else. To put the life of your child in another person’s hands. As a mum, we’re programmed to protect our young. It shouldn’t feel like a failing on my part that my son has developed a chronic disease, but somehow it does.

‘What do you fancy for lunch?’ I ask, mentally scanning the contents of the fridge. ‘We have ham, eggs, cheese. I could whip up a fluffy omelette.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You have to eat.’ I don’t like giving him his medication on an empty stomach, the bile acid sequestrates his daily vitamin supplements – his body can’t absorb all the nutrients he needs despite the healthy meals I cook for him. Lack of vitamin D and calcium can weaken his bones.

‘Tomato soup then,’ he decides.

The one thing we haven’t got.

‘I’ll have to pop to the shops.’

‘I’ll have something else then. Don’t go out just for me.’

‘It’s okay. Anything else while I’m there?’ I used to shake my head when the boys begged for junk food every time I was going out, chocolate bars, biscuits, popcorn. Now I wish that Kieron was hungry for something.