That conversation about Archie was the most honest Marty and I had been with each other in years. And slowly, his reassurances were seeping into my soul. You’re a wonderful mother. Stop blaming yourself. Together, we were accepting that some things were outside a parent’s control. And a doctor’s. With the ticking time bomb of Archie’s damaged organs, our son was always going to be wrenched away from us. And that was why I’d held on so tightly to Bella.

We were being kind to each other. Marty had even suggested seeing a bereavement counsellor together, and going to visit Archie’s grave. Maybe, just maybe, we could work through our grief and guilt and emerge with our marriage stronger than before.

My fingers were shaking so much that I could barely pull up the child lock on the gate.

I hadn’t wanted to come back here but Imogen—and Bella—had insisted.

My daughter squeezed past me, hopping up and down, waiting for me to hurry up. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door to playgroup: the room danced with colour, balloons bouncing on the floor, streamers hanging from the ceiling. Bella shrieked and ran into the centre, sending the balloons flying into the air. I gazed around, searching for evidence of the police command post. Puzzles dotted the small tables instead of maps. No radio chatter, only the magical sound of our children laughing.

I’d explained to Bella that Sammy wouldn’t be at playgroup. He was living with Mel’s brother—not the sister. And they were taking him in to see Mel and Deirdre each weekend. It wouldn’t be like last time when the family hadn’t let Mel near Sarah.

‘Welcome back!’ yelled Zoe and Morgan.

Bella was already at the dress-up box, wrapping the purple cloak around her shoulders and waving the wizard’s wand.

It was as though we’d come home.

Imogen made cups of tea. Julia cut up fruit and said that she’d enrolled Morgan in the Merrigang pre-school.

‘Have you filled in the forms yet?’ she asked me. ‘Will Bella go to Merrigang?’

‘Only if the twins are going too.’ I grinned at Imogen.

Tara sat in the comfy chair near the kitchenette, breastfeeding Daisy. When she’d arrived early to help with Bella’s big party, she had apologised for the TV interview and begged to be allowed to stay in playgroup. I was working on forgiveness—of myself, of Marty. I’d try to forgive her, too. Tara had been rocked by Mel’s behaviour as much as we had.