‘I think you learn by example when it comes to parenting, don’t you?’ I say to the man on the bench. I’ve brought Bonnie back to the park, hoping he would be here. He is. I was pleased to see him. I’ve been thinking about him a lot.

‘I guess, but also, I hope not. I think, more importantly, we take our experiences with our own parents and adjust it for ourselves. At the end of the day, we all just do our best, don’t we?’ he says.

I look at Bonnie and realise that that’s exactly what I am not doing when it comes to her. My best.

‘My mother is a horrible woman. She was a horrible mother,’ I say, forgetting myself a little. Just telling this man the solid facts. ‘She was cruel to me, she still is.’

‘That’s terrible. And unfair. But you say parents lead by example? Clearly you don’t.’

‘I try.’

‘She’s adorable.’

I’m not cruel to Bonnie like Mum is to me. I don’t call her mean names or taunt her. I wouldn’t do those things. I’m not nice though. And most of the time she’s angry with me or scared of me. One of the two. And that is entirely my fault.

‘So what was Verity like?’ I ask him, not knowing what the right questions are.

‘Oh, she was very sweet. Calm, kind. I like to think she was like me, she didn’t want to be the centre of attention. The exact opposite to my other daughter, who is much more like her mother. They are both quite hard to manage at times.’

‘Isn’t parenting just hard to manage at times?’

‘Yes, that is true. I’d say the hardest thing about parenting is sharing yourself. When you’re hurting, having to love another person is tough. Having to hold yourself together for them, and not letting your pain become their problem. That’s the hard stuff. It takes a lifetime to learn, and when you finally do, it’s too late. They are either grown up, or …’ He seems lost for words, staring into the distance as though I’m no longer sitting by his side.

‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘You don’t need to finish that sentence.’

‘No. OK, well, I have to go, nice to see you again.’ He stands up and extends a hand. ‘Ross.’

‘Ruby.’

‘Have a good day,’ he says as he walks away.

‘You too,’ I tell him, wondering if a ‘good day’ is possible when you’ve been through what he’s been through.

‘Bonnie, we better go too,’ I say as I approach her, bracing myself for a meltdown that doesn’t come. She climbs into her buggy.

‘Mummy?’ she says, as we walk. ‘Can we go to the park together more often?’