‘How about you take Eden into the kitchen to get a drink?’ Rachel said to Logan when they moved onto the details of their games in the arcade.

‘What do you want to drink?’ Logan asked Eden.

‘Take her into the kitchen and let her pick,’ Rachel said firmly. ‘Then you can take your drinks up to your bedroom and play Minecraft again.’

Logan shrugged. ‘Come on, Eden.’ They ran out the room, giggling.

‘Why don’t you sit down, Jemma?’ Rachel suggested. ‘Julie’s got something she wants to say to you.’

Obediently, I perched on the nearest armchair and waited.

Mum cleared her throat. ‘When I was Logan’s age, I had a really bad case of the chicken-pox. Spots were everywhere – on my eyelids, in my ears, in my mouth and even in my, er, lady bits, shall we say? I’d barely had a day’s sickness until then and I didn’t cope well with being so poorly. Apparently I worked myself into a frustrated frenzy, shouting, crying, hurling myself around which heated my body up and made the itching worse, making me even more frustrated and upset. My mum couldn’t cope. I actually made her ill and she had to send me to my grandma’s after a few days. Thankfully I’ve been pretty healthy ever since. Then I got diagnosed with Parkinson’s and I’ve felt like that frustrated ten-year-old all over again, hating what’s happening to me, but powerless to do anything about it.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘I’m not coping well with this diagnosis. I thought I was the sort of person who could take anything that life wanted to throw at me. I thought I was really strong. I thought I was a fighter. But that’s obviously not the case.’

‘You are strong,’ I insisted. ‘You’re the strongest person I know. I’ve always wanted to be more like you.’