“The end of the holiday was truly dreadful, though. Perhaps it was inevitable that it eventually soured everything, in one way or another.”

Delighted when the session is finally over, I leave the past behind with Christian, an exorcist with my ghosts.

The future—Felix and Emily—are what matters. I don’t want to dwell on loss anymore, I’ve been surrounded by too much one way or another. I’m going to be brave and start putting pictures of family life on social media. I thought that it would be insensitive and too soon, but why should I hide my pride and joy? If I fade into the background, it’s giving the impression that I have something to be ashamed of. Which I don’t. Nina didn’t hold back when it came to sharing things and she didn’t ask me not to. I should celebrate their lives and achievements.

I stop at a supermarket, a more expensive one than my usual. As I push my cart around the aisles, I feel absurdly content. I’m going to cook us all a special family meal tonight. As I consider all the products Nina would’ve bought—she was big into brands—a thought occurs.

I replace “her” choices back on the shelves and instead, select all the ingredients I need for cottage pie, substituting the mince with a vegetarian alternative. No one will notice because I’ll use one of Nina’s recipes. I made it often enough when I babysat. While Nina got ready (she was rarely on time for anything), I’d take over in the kitchen. Stuart would sometimes assist, one of us would stir, one would chop, and we’d have shared at least one glass of red by the time Nina appeared.

I pick up a behavior chart and pop it in among the groceries before I head for the checkout. Hopefully, it will encourage Emily to become a nicer child. I’ll continue to put these small, yet positive, changes in place. I love thinking like a mother: the children’s welfare always at the forefront of my mind. It’s no longer all about me, and that can only be a good thing.

My phone rings.

“Hi, Stuart.”

“Felix is ill, he’s got a temperature. I’ve picked him up from school, but he’s really not well. I’ve got an emergency appointment at the doctor’s. Are you okay to pick up Em?”

“Of course. Poor Felix, keep me updated.”

I pay for my shopping, shove everything into bags and rush to the car.

Emily is unusually quiet. She helps me prepare dinner, I give her little jobs, which she usually enjoys, but she is half-hearted and abandons stirring the carrots and onions halfway through.

“When will Felix and Daddy be back?”

“Soon,” I say.

“What if they don’t come back?”

“They will, darling. I promise.”

“I want my mummy.”

I force back my tears and give Emily a hug, but she pulls away. She rushes upstairs. I follow quietly behind, uncertain what to do. Leave her for a few minutes or comfort her? I stand just outside her door. She is lying on her bed, facedown, sobbing.