I go to a shop in the next district and spend some of next month’s tokens there, filling my basket with party foods and a small birthday cake. I buy birthday candles too, and a birthday banner, and household candles, and a cigarette lighter. In another shop on the way home I buy another lighter.

At baby group, I sow the seeds. I give out that we’ll be staying with my sister for the summer, with a view to moving there. I tell them she’s got an allotment.

‘It won’t feed all of you, though,’ says the new woman, sharply.

‘Maybe not, but we’re going to learn how to work on it,’ I say, mildly. ‘My sister doesn’t have the energy to make the most of it, she’s not in good health. And we’ll pool our tokens. Anyway, it’s not definite – we’ll see how we get along over the summer and then think about it.’ I smile.

‘I didn’t know you had a sister,’ says one.

‘No… we haven’t seen much of each other in recent years. She’s not in good health.’

‘What about Dean’s job?’ says someone else.

I sigh. ‘That’s part of it really. We always worry about him being laid off, things never look good. He can pick up some work with my brother-in-law over the summer, and then his boss’ll take him back on afterwards if it doesn’t work out. We won’t need much money out there. They’ve got a generator.’

I wish I had a sister. With an allotment and a generator. Some safe place where Cara could be well, and we’d just be country bumpkins, not worthy of notice. The clinic appointment comes through, and I open it with a lurch.

Cara needs a pox jab. She’s not quite old enough for it, but we’ll have to be gone before she is. I could take her and tell them that we know someone who’s got it, but we might be caught out, and we can’t risk that. I could go to the walk-in centre in a panic and say I saw a boy with spots, and act a bit stupid when they ask for details, but it’s still a risk. But then we’ll come up on the records anyway when we miss the jab in half a year’s time.

I take the risk, at the walk-in centre, and they agree to do her. Cara knows what’s up. When she sees the needle she screams. ‘No, Mummy! Hurts!’ The nurse doesn’t bat an eyelid. I realize that she hasn’t looked at Cara’s date of birth.

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