I smile back at her. I think of all the assumptions it’s so easy to make. I nod. ‘Yeah. I know.’

We turn off the office lights and set the alarms. I wait for her at the top of the stairs as she locks the office door behind us. Then we head down, into the hubbub of the city together.

On Saturday, it’s a clear spring day; mid-April. Charlie and I go to the park. The sun is bright, and it’s warm enough that Charlie has stripped down to his T-shirt. Warm enough that I am not shivering. I’ve got a takeaway hot chocolate in my hand, thick with cream and chocolate sprinkles. I got it from the new coffee shop that’s opened up round the corner from us. Another trendy café in Brixton. Soon we’ll head back to the flat for lunch where the fridge is stocked with all kinds of wholesome foods. I’m doing better now. I’ve put on quite a bit of weight.

In front of me, Charlie runs in circles, burning off all the energy he has. The air is so clear and my head is clear too.

It is quite easy for me to see him properly now.

‘Watch me!’ he shouts. ‘Mummy, watch me!’

His birthday is coming up in just two weeks. He took the invitations into school yesterday and he tells me almost everyone’s going to come. It’s a lot better at the school gates now, ever since I called up Molly’s mum and explained about my anxiety and why I behaved how I did. She said she totally, completely understood – funnily enough, she used to suffer depression. Then she must have had a word with the other school parents, because it’s pretty much back to normal now at the gates.

I’m thinking too about calling Alastair later. Inviting him along to the party. It’s probably not Marianne’s kind of thing, but I’m going to call her as well, to suggest we meet up for coffee and cake. It’s about time I started making an effort. Stopped keeping my whole life to myself.

Charlie climbs to the top of the slide, the metal glinting in the April sunshine, bright as a blade. He shrieks as he catapults down, landing awkwardly at the bottom, scattering wood chips. For a moment, my heart trips over itself, losing all coordination. Then Charlie scrambles back to his feet and I draw a sharp breath, scraping the air back into my lungs.

He is healthy. He is fine. Isn’t that what the GP said?