After looking at the other children, she shakes her head. I ask her again. This time she screams no, and throws her arms around my neck, almost choking me. I can’t pull them apart.

‘Bonnie, come on now, this is your new nursery.’

The stench is horrific, but we are here and I need to work today. I can find somewhere else, but for now, this is it. They will get the smell fixed, and maybe the cleaner is ill. I’ll suggest I pay week to week as it’s mid-term.

‘Bonnie, please, come on.’ But she won’t let go. She is crying painfully, and screaming. It’s not her usual tantrum, it’s more desperate than that. More genuinely upset than her just trying her luck.

‘This happens a lot,’ Maria says. ‘Separation anxiety. It’s normal when a child has been one-on-one with the mother until now. She’ll settle – sometimes it takes a week or so but they always calm down.’

She thinks Bonnie and I have been one-on-one until now? I don’t correct her.

I look around the room again. The children are playing with toys. There isn’t much laughter, or much action happening yet. But it’s only 8.30 a.m. And maybe the older children aren’t here yet?

‘Ahhh, you’ll miss your mummy? I know. But Mummy has things to do. Here, come to Maria. I have Barbies, do you like Barbies?’ Bonnie shakes her head. She has never had Barbies; I don’t want dolls in the house.

‘What about Lego?’ I suggest.

‘No.’

‘Play dough?’ Maria chimes in.

‘No.’

‘A book?’

‘No.’

‘Would you like to ride a bike?’

‘No.’

‘Have a snack?’

Maria is sounding a little desperate now.

‘Maybe it’s best you just go, I’ll see you in two hours.’

I peel Bonnie off me, Maria pulls her away. She is crying so much her head has turned purple. She doesn’t want to stay, she doesn’t want me to leave. Would I want to stay in a dirty new place that stinks of drains? No. But it’s a nursery, she is safe here. The toilet will get fixed, the floor will be swept, and I need to work.

I head for the door without looking back. The sound of Bonnie’s screams follow me down the street. For the first time I think I understand what people mean by ‘mother’s guilt’. I never imagined I’d be the kind of person to feel it.

Lauren Pearce – Instagram post

@OfficialLP

The image is of Lauren in a bubble bath. There’s a highly indulgent level of bubbles. It is the middle of the day. Candles are lit and the edge of the bath is visible and made of solid marble. There is a glass of champagne next to her. It isn’t clear who took the photo.

The caption reads: