Sharon had taken some comfort from comparing notes on their respective kids, and in knowing that she wasn’t the only mother going through something like this. But the conversation did come with guilt. The woman had talked candidly, to the point of breaking down, about how she sometimes felt like she wasn’t scared while her little girl was asleep, it was the waking up that terrified her. Her daughter’s seizures could come on without warning. They could be anywhere, doing anything, and she would suddenly start. The idea that all epileptics had a known trigger seemed to be a fallacy, or at least if her daughter had one then they hadn’t worked it out yet. Even before the incident that hospitalised her she didn’t want her daughter to go out, or even to be out of her sight. Instead she talked about how it had become normal for the family to stay at home, her daughter wrapped in metaphorical cotton wool. It sounded miserable. Sharon’s guilt at stating that all she yearned for was a return to their normal life still hung heavy on her and she tried to avoid too much conversation. The two girls were the same age, they even looked similar at a glance. The same slight build and a similar colour to their hair and pattern in their freckles. Something Sharon has almost forgotten about since her daughter had discovered makeup.

Today the woman was holding a bunch of bright flowers tightly wrapped in glittery paper, which instantly gave Sharon a subject for small talk.

‘It’s going OK, thank you,’ she said. ‘Those are beautiful.’

‘Oh, aren’t they just! I stopped for a coffee on the way in. I like to stop for a couple of minutes when I get in this place …’ She seemed to run out of words, like she felt bad about admitting a delay in coming up to see her daughter.

‘I know what you mean.’

The woman visibly relaxed instantly. ‘It’s a mindset isn’t it? Being here, I mean.’

‘It is.’

‘Anyway, where was I?’ She tutted at herself. ‘The flowers! I was just sat down there and I must have been looking a bit down because someone bought me these flowers from the florist right there in the foyer! We talked, only a few minutes, but he said he wanted to give me these to remind me that these places are just as much about hope as sadness. What a lovely thing to do!’ Her voice was breaking with the last few words.

‘Ah, that is lovely.’

‘You get creeps, you know, it wasn’t like that. You know when something’s genuine, don’t you? His mother’s here. I didn’t ask why.’

‘I think these places can bring that out in people. None of us want to be here. Certainly not our girls,’ Sharon said.