‘Can you get me in tomorrow?’ I ask, thinking that gives me twenty-four hours to find some childcare.

‘Sorry, the earliest I have is next Thursday.’

‘FUCK,’ I yell. Maron and the one with the chest look immediately over to Bonnie to see how much damage I did to her by swearing.

‘OK, OK, Bonnie, come with me please.’

She doesn’t move.

‘Bonnie, here, NOW.’

She still doesn’t move. So, muttering more swear words under my breath, I pick up all of the treats and my phone and drag her kicking and screaming into the treatment room. Maron points to a chair she can sit on. I face it towards the wall, sit her in it, load her up with snacks, give her back the phone, and ask Maron to leave so I can get undressed.

She does.

This is all wrong.

I take off all of my clothes except my underwear and lie on the bed, placing the pointless and tiny towel over my crotch. Vera always knew to give me a bigger one. I look at the back of my daughter’s head, begging her not to turn around. She can’t see this. She can’t know. A bad smell fills the room.

‘Ready?’ asks Maron, tapping on the door and opening it a crack before coming in. I brace myself for the inevitable reaction to the sight she’s greeted with, but she doesn’t even flinch when she looks at me. I don’t know what to do with that. There is no point in being in attack mode if no one is trying to attack you.

‘Oh dear, it smells like someone has had a little accident,’ Maron says, acknowledging the smell radiating from Bonnie. I realise I have no nappies; in a rush this morning, I’ve left the nappy bag at home.

‘She’ll have to wait now,’ I say, lying back, submissively giving my body to Maron. She’s seen it now, there is no point in me resisting her.

‘Oh it’s OK, you don’t need to leave her with a poo in her nappy. I can wait,’ she says, making me feel like the cruellest mother imaginable for making my child sit in a dirty nappy while I get what is, essentially, a beauty treatment. But I insist she must just get on with it.

‘OK, let’s get going, shall we, so you can freshen her up.’ Maron lights a candle, which helps with the smell. My torture is about to begin.

‘Please go as quickly as you can,’ I ask her.

I lay my head to the side, away from Maron. She gets the things she needs to start the procedure.

‘So is she your only one?’ Maron asks, nodding in Bonnie’s direction.

‘Yes,’ I reply in my blandest voice. I don’t want to talk. Vera understood that.

‘How old is she?’