I turn around one last time, and Mum looks angry. So I do what I did at the beginning. I dare myself to take one step, then another, then another, and, after enough dares, the boy is in front of me.

“Hello,” I say, and he squints like he’s looking into the sun, but doesn’t reply.

“Would you like to play?”

He turns, but his mother is nowhere, and not even I can see her.

“Play what?” the boy asks.

“Whatever you want.”

There are lots of words to remember, because children can say so many different things, and Mum has prepared me for all of them.

He looks one last time for his mum, then nods. “Okay.”

I hold out my hand, and he takes it.

The park is five minutes away, and the disabled bathroom is big enough for two people to change clothes at the same time, but the boy won’t do it.

When I show them to him, he says, “I’ve got clothes.”

“But these are better.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head too hard, but I know what to do. So I take out the sweets, and his eyes go wide.

When he reaches for them, I say, “Not until you’ve changed,” so he does and then he eats the whole packet of candy like it’s a bag of chips.

After I’ve changed, I stuff my other clothes in my bag but leave his on the floor because they smell, then say, “Are you ready to play now?”

He nods and reaches for my hand, because I’m winning him over.

Mum is in the car with the engine running, and she has a hat pulled over her face. When the boy sees her, he says, “Who’s that?”

“That’s my mum,” I say. “She’s nice. Is your mum nice?”

The boy nods and gives her a funny look, but she smiles her old smile, and it reminds me of Will.

I help him into the car seat and strap him in and he asks, “More sweets?”

Mum turns and says, “Of course, gorgeous. You can have all the sweets you want.”

IIII IIII IIII I

There are no sweets at home, because Mum says they’re bad for you, so the boy is going to be disappointed. But her lie worked, because he walks into our house and up the stairs and into Will’s old room, and she says, “What do you think?”

He doesn’t reply. He just walks over to Will’s toys and starts touching them, which I’m not happy about.

Mum turns to me. “Well done, sweetheart,” and my heart jumps because she hasn’t called me that in a long time.

Dad isn’t smiling. The look on his face is new and strange, but Mum hugs him and says, “It will be okay.”

It’s what we all keep saying, and I hope it’s true.