The smoke alarm shrieks, a plume of black smoke escaping the toaster. My fingertips burn as I pull out the charred bread and drop it into the bin. It’s hard to the keep the tidal wave of hopelessness at bay. Already this morning I’ve washed my hair with conditioner instead of shampoo and left the iron plugged in after I’d finished pressing Connor’s school shirts. I’m heavy with the feeling I’m only seconds away from losing my mind. I throw open the back door to let in some fresh air, scanning the garden again, eyes landing on the empty washing line before I pull them away. It’s a beautiful day, the sun bouncing off the windows of the shed. The memory of the footprints in the border punches at me. I shield my eyes, just for a second imagining someone peeping at me from behind the glass.

‘Mum?’ Kieron calls from the sofa.

‘Coming,’ I reply with a false note of brightness as I close the door and lock it.

‘Did you burn my toast?’ Kieron asks.

‘Yes, sorry. I got distracted.’ I pick up my mug and take a sip, my drink now lukewarm and unappealing.

‘Dad says you’re always distracted. Do you wish you were at work, rather than stuck here with me?’ His bottom lip trembles.

‘I’m not stuck here. I want to be here. You’re the most important thing—’

‘And Connor?’

‘Of course, Connor too.’

‘He…’ Kieron trails off. Hugs the duvet a little closer.

‘He?’ I gently prompt.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Kieron. If there’s something I need to know?’

‘He thinks you love me more than him.’

There’s a choke in my throat as I ask, ‘Did he tell you that?’

‘I heard him telling Hailey once. She was saying how lucky Connor was having a mum when she didn’t and they started talking about families. I didn’t mean to listen. I know you love us both and I don’t think Connor was upset because he had Hailey then but now he doesn’t have her… Mum, he looks so sad all the time.’

I want to weep into my cold coffee. ‘I love you both equally.’ I’ve dreaded Connor feeling somehow less when Kieron often has to come first. I’m going to put it right. Everything. Starting with the bloody bread.

‘Let’s pop to the shops and get a loaf.’

‘I’m too tired.’ He snuggles further down onto the sofa and draws the blanket up to his chin.

‘I don’t want to leave you alone.’

‘Mum. I’m not a baby. I’m thirteen. Just because I’m small for my age—’

‘It isn’t that.’

‘Why can’t I stay here then?’ A lengthy sigh lets me know he thinks I’m being overprotective.

Am I?

I gather my courage, my keys and my purse.