‘I feel like the worst mum in the whole world, you’re right, I am a total failure. A crap mum,’ Cec says, closing her eyes and squeezing tears out.

This seems to sap most of the anger out of Chris. His shoulders drop, his face softens. ‘Oh Cec, no you’re not.’

‘I am, Chris, you just said I was. You’re right! I fucked up!’

‘No, no. You are the rock of this family, Cec. I’m sorry, we all just freaked out.’

‘I don’t even know who I am anymore, I can’t do anything right.’ She starts shaking her head, tears sliding down her face. It’s heartbreaking.

‘I’m sorry,’ Chris tells her. ‘I need to be there for you more.’

‘I’m so sorry for what happened today. I am an idiot.’

‘No, I’m a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.’ Chris puts his arm around Cec. She blows her nose on her sleeve.

‘Ugh, what a horrible day,’ Cec says through a bunged-up nose.

Bea and I suddenly realize we are ear-wigging and should probably head off.

‘Babe, I’m going to go now. I’m glad everything is OK,’ Bea says. ‘Please, please don’t beat yourself up about this.’ She puts a gentle hand on Cec’s shoulder.

‘Same, message us later OK? Are you going to be all right?’ I ask.

‘I’ll be fine, girls. Thank you, for always being there.’ We hug Cecily and give Chris a nod.

I make to move away with Bea, but then slow my steps. I need to stick around and talk to Cecily. I don’t want to leave her like this.

‘Chris,’ I say, diplomatically, ‘why don’t you take Oscar inside and I’ll take Cec for a quick coffee, just to take her mind off things and chill for a sec?’

‘Sure.’ Chris lifts Oscar out of Cec’s arms. I feel quite impressed with myself for taking the reins. ‘See you later, Cec.’ He kisses her on the lips, locks his car with his key blipper and walks into the house, chatting nonsense to Oscar.

Cec’s shoulders drop and, despite her lingering tears, she looks happy with my suggestion. ‘Thank you,’ she mouths at me.

We pop into a coffee shop on the corner near her house; it’s falling apart a bit, the walls have paint flaking off and there’s a funny smell coming from the kitchen, but it’s not the time to be picky. There are loads of posh cafés in this area, but Cec needs something simple. We just need a hot drink and a moment to breathe.

I buy Cec a latte and a cup of hot tomato soup and a mint tea for me. I can tell she’s really spaced out because she’s not mentioned what a dive the place is. There’s an old guy behind her, plugging five different gadgets into the plug sockets and complaining about the tap water.

‘I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time, Cec … Oh look at you, you’re shaking a bit – are you cold?’ I ask, pouring her some water.