Edgar divided us into four groups and we put on fluorescent-yellow T-shirts. I was with Milou and Jean-Rachid, whom the others just called Rachid. They seemed super chuffed to be with me, and Milou even called me ‘Miss’ at one point. That made Rachid burst out laughing and he retorted that I wasn’t a teacher, that was obvious. I asked him what made him think that, and he replied that I didn’t appear to be very fond of children. I stopped the camera. I wanted him to explain, but Edgar saw us and ordered us to get moving. I soon understood what Rachid had meant, and how distant and superior I must have seemed to them. Since the start of the morning, I’d been much more focused on the camera than on the moment. I got a grip on myself and smiled at Rachid, telling him I’d show him, and that I’d give him a hard time with my vast footballing experience. He laughed, gave me a high five and said, ‘Let’s go.’

And go we did. Jesus, we’d been going at it for three days. Those kids were tireless. I tried various ruses to get out of some of the sessions, including my classic twisted ankle. Edgar asked the kids to vote to decide whether or not I’d twisted my ankle, and they all voted no. I tried the urgent phone-call tactic, and Milou declared that my phone hadn’t rung. I tried to bribe a child with a lot of sweets, and that worked: Dora was happy to pretend to feel unwell, and I offered to look after her. Edgar had no choice but to accept.

I spent a couple of delightful hours with young Dora. We played ‘Guess who I’m thinking of’, ‘I dare you’, ‘Truth or dare’, and she told me jokes that kids her age love – Dora had just turned twelve – and I laughed as I hadn’t laughed for years. Laughing with her in those changing rooms that reeked of sweat and dirty socks, I began to feel nauseous. At first, it was vague, and then it became more insistent, oppressive.

This girl’s energy and magnetic cheerfulness contrasted so painfully with my isolation, my solitude. The echo of the void resounded deep inside me. Dora’s laugh was like a mirror in which all I could see was a black hole. I’d been absent from my own life for a very long time – since well before Louis’s accident.