Friday finally arrives. I dress carefully, apply a slick of red lipstick, then wipe it away. I’m feeling the cold today after another night of disturbed sleep; tell myself this is the reason I have the shakes. Settle into the car, breathe. Roll down the window, poke my head out, increase speed, stick my tongue out, catch the wind and tiny droplets of moisture.

I’m left waiting fifteen minutes in the overheated waiting room. Remove my outer layers.

‘Excuse me, could you please find out where Maureen is?’ I ask a receptionist I’ve never seen before.

The young woman plastered in cheap make-up, which is melting in this unnatural heat, speaks without even looking up. ‘She’ll be with you when she’s with you.’

Little hussy. I get up, dramatically stretch, walk to the window, haw on it and draw a heart. The receptionist says nothing. Feel like I’m being watched, turn, see Maureen standing at the door. That woman materialises as if out of mist.

‘Just something Tommy and I used to like to do,’ I say as I rub away the condensation with my sleeve.

‘Sorry I got a bit delayed, Sonya. Tommy seems a little distressed today. Needed some time with him alone. Ok now, though, good to go when you are.’

What? No. Don’t I get some time alone with you? Some tips?

Tommy appears, being led by the same wiry lurcher-woman as before.

‘Thanks, Sally, I’ll take it from here,’ Maureen says.

The woman regards me with withering disgust – her only means of expressing her judgement of these selfish, childish, poor excuses for mothers – and leaves. I don’t get a chance to communicate that I am in complete agreement.

Tommy is trailing a kids’ wheelie bag in the shape of a fire engine. Oh, please. He’s wearing the flashing runners, and his old jeans and hoodie.

‘Hi, kiddo. All ready to go?’

Kiddo. Where did that come from?

He looks at Maureen, then at me, and nods.

‘Herbie can’t wait to see you.’

‘Go on, now, Tommy, there’s a good boy. We’ll see each other again very soon, and I have Clare’s number if you want to chat to her about anything.’

She’s all bustle and business now as she ushers us to the door.

‘The meetings are obligatory, Sonya, remember?’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘And school must be continued.’

‘Yes, yes…’

‘Not optional, Sonya. No matter how Tommy feels, he goes. We’ll be checking up there.’

‘Right.’

‘And we’ll organise a home visit very soon.’

‘Ok.’

‘Stay in close contact with your father.’

The irony of that.

Maureen pushes against the door, holds it open.

‘Chilly day all the same. Stay warm, and safe.’

Too much emphasis on the last word. Dismissed with a tight smile, a wave, a ‘See you soon, Tommy’, and then the door closes and the two of us are outside, neither one looking at the other.

‘Car is over here, Mr T.’ I go to take his bag from him, but he shrugs me off. ‘Ok, ok, Jesus…’ Wish I could pull back the words the moment they’ve escaped me.