Donna stood up in front of everybody and gave a short thank you speech about the hard work and effort that had gone into the show, and said she was sure we would all want to congratulate our children and could take a few minutes to do so, but could we please stay seated and let our children come to us.

The other children rushed forwards and merged with the audience. All around us there were hugs, questions, backslapping and reassurances, and the noise levels in the Portakabin were instantly turned up from hushed to tumult. But Daisy didn’t move.

Amy tapped her on the shoulder and said something in her ear and pointed in the direction of the route out of the boat, the way the other children had gone. Finally Daisy understood: she was free. As if she’d just been released from prison, she got up and shot forwards.

As she went she knocked over the mast of the boat, which was a big silver star attached to a cardboard pole. It toppled onto some mother’s head and Amy sprang forward to check the woman was all right. Daisy fled past us and made her way to the exit.

The door to the cloakroom was slightly ajar and Daisy sped on through, with me following her as fast as I could.

‘Daisy! Daisy, wait for Mummy. Daisy, stop!’

Thankfully, the main exit was still closed and secured. She hadn’t tried to get out anyway; she’d made her way to her peg. Each of the children had one, with a laminated name label written in a clear, cursive adult script and decorated with an animal. Daisy’s was a smiling crocodile. Not a word I’d ever heard her attempt to say.

Apart from us, the cloakroom was empty and quiet. There were coats hanging all around, and lunchboxes lined up on the shelves above the pegs, and a faint smell of wet wellington boots. All as usual. All as it should be.

Daisy had a picture of Thomas the Tank Engine on her lunchbox; most of the other girls had ones with Disney princesses on, but Daisy had shown marginally more interest in Thomas and friends than any other characters. You were meant to worry about kids watching too much TV, but Daisy barely seemed to see the point of it. Thomas was pretty much the only thing she liked, and even then there were just a few scenes that caught her interest, and they didn’t hold it for long.

Her red coat was still hanging up, just as I’d left it when I’d dropped her off an hour earlier. Daisy was standing next to it with her star in her hand, looking lost. No, not lost. Shellshocked, as if she was standing in the middle of a scene of apocalypse.

‘Daisy.’

I went closer. She turned round and seemed to recognise me. I went closer still and she reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding her star and slipped it under my jumper at the waist, feeling for my tummy.