I could have been stood for a while that way, for in my mind I was off somewhere else entirely. I was with Ben, we were walking through the park, his little podgy hand in mine. He had asked for an ice-cream. He had already had a bag of sweets that morning and usually I wouldn’t have given in but there was something that resonated in me in his tone of voice that day; the way it went slightly up at the end of ‘Mum’ when he asked me could he have a white one with a chocolate stick. My heart thawed like the cold creamy substance on his little warm tongue. We walked together from the swings to the van, all the while Ben had his eyes firmly fixed in front of him, never wavering or stumbling once to point out a bug or an obscure-looking rock. When we reached the van, I leant down and Ben repeated his request too close to my ear; his voice broken and breathy in a manner which some mothers find endearing. I relayed his message to the server, still not ready to insert any independence into him, then looked on curiously as he consumed the confectionary in one tidy action – such a quiet, neat boy. I couldn’t have hoped for a better behaved child.

The memory of my son as a perfect child momentarily faded as another memory filtered through. One from not so long ago and one that was of vital importance. Right now, there was a threat in my home. I had to admit, initially when I got the call from Ben, I presumed the worst had happened. But in fact the worst was here and sleeping under my roof; homeless and looking to me for support.

He said there was some sort of explosion. Girls are so silly and irresponsible these days. Not thinking about anything except their hair and make-up. No home sense and certainly no safety sense. Neither Daisy nor her silly friend had any of the instincts I carried with me daily.

With the two of them comatose by copious amounts of brandy and therefore safely out of my way for the foreseeable, I went to my bedroom. I felt a tingle in my stomach as I brought the box down from the shelf at the top of my wardrobe and took it over to my bed. Its presence under the circumstances was even more precious. It looked like it was once a vibrant duck egg blue colour but was well faded. I can’t remember what it once held, but there was a darker blue spiral pattern that ran around the whole of the box giving it a regal affect and hinting that it once was the carrier for something rather precious and beautiful. Funny how what was inside now didn’t bear quite the same splendour.

I carefully lifted the lid off and turned my attention to what was inside. I glanced at the stacked papers I had been collecting for weeks and thought how I now needed these more than ever. I lifted a few pieces of paper from the top, and my stomach did a double flip as my eyes scanned hurriedly across the contents once more for what could have been the hundredth time but each time felt brand new.