‘Don’t be silly, of course you’re not—’

‘But I am.’ He cuts me off. ‘I want his differences to be celebrated, not seen as a problem. I want him to grow up to be happy and confident and independent. I don’t want him to slip through the net and get left behind. I want him to reach his full potential. Janet was really passionate about that. She wanted Stan to have a brilliant life. Because he is brilliant.’

Ben’s pride is palpable. As is his frustration.

‘Let me try and help.’

He frowns. ‘How?’

I gesture to the prospectus in my hand. ‘This isn’t your only option for Stanley – far from it. There’s more than one primary school in the area and, with the right resources and support from teachers and staff who understand children like Stanley, it can make all the difference.’ Tiredness is etched on Ben’s face and I recognize that same feeling of being overwhelmed that I felt when I first moved here. ‘It’s a big decision and you know your son better than anyone, but it’s also important you know what your choices are and what you’re entitled to, so you can make the best decision.’

I hand him back the prospectus.

‘And that’s where I come in.’

Valentine

‘I’m afraid we have a few concerns about your wife’s health.’

Valentine sat across from Mr Richards, the senior manager of the care home, and one of his team leaders. They had called him in to talk about Gisele, although it was the manager doing all the talking.

‘Lately she seems to have lost her appetite,’ he continued, his face grave.

‘Gisele’s always been a fussy eater.’

‘She’s lost quite a bit of weight – my staff are concerned,’ added the team leader, looking at her files.

Valentine shifted in his seat. He felt ambushed.

‘No offence, but my wife’s French. She finds the food here quite basic.’

Merde was how she actually put it, thought Valentine, but best not go into detail.

Behind his desk, which was filled with photographs of his family, the manager bristled.

‘We might not have a Michelin star, Mr Crowther, but our catering staff are highly qualified to create meals that specifically meet the requirements of our residents.’

Specifically meet the requirements of our residents.

Valentine suddenly had an image of le rosbif that Gisele would conjure up every Sunday. Crisp on the outside, rare and pink on the inside, accompanied by gratin dauphinois and a Béarnaise sauce. With the best will in the world, the Sunday lunch he’d just witnessed would never come close to meeting Gisele’s culinary requirements.

‘And she doesn’t like it when you put a bib on her.’

Earlier, Valentine had been quite upset to walk in and find his wife with a bib around her neck, as if she was a baby. Gisele wore silk scarves from Paris, not a plastic bib.

‘We take the utmost care to preserve the dignity of our residents, but we have to balance this with the practicality of their needs.’ The team leader spoke kindly, but firmly.