I can’t quite put into words the emotion that filled me. But I guess, mainly, it was a kind of panic. As long as she was physically still a child I was able to fool myself that there was still time – for things to turn themselves around, for her to grow out of her difficulties, for me to become the sort of mother who knew how to deal with someone so clearly out of step with the world. The realization that she was growing into an adult triggered a sort of terror in me, because it meant that soon it would be too late for me to work out how to help her, to change the course on which her life was going. Perhaps I had a premonition of how badly things would end for us all. It terrified me: in that moment of clarity I was utterly terrified.

Nevertheless I took a deep breath and chose my words carefully. ‘Hannah, I was wondering if you would like to come shopping with me at the weekend?’

Her head shot up. ‘Can I get some new computer games?’

‘I thought we’d look for some bras for you, some toiletries … or new clothes, perhaps. We could even get your hair cut. What do you say?’ I heard the wheedling edge my voice always seemed to have when talking to her and cringed, but forced myself to continue smiling brightly.

Her glance fell downwards to her chest and I steeled myself for her embarrassment, but her expression when she next looked up was one of ambivalence. For a while she held my gaze, before she plonked her bowl back down on the work surface and muttered, ‘Don’t want any,’ before turning and walking away, the conversation clearly over as far as she was concerned.

Nevertheless in the following weeks I bought her a variety of bras in different sizes, hoping that some of them might fit. I bought her some shampoo, deodorant, some sanitary towels and tampons, some nice new clothes that I chose with painstaking care. I even bought her a book about puberty. It broke my heart, of course; every purchase driving home the fact that this should be so very different: an opportunity to guide her lovingly through this important life stage, a chance to bond amongst the rails of Topshop. I tried not to mind, had long ago told myself to let go of the fantasy relationship I’d always longed for, but it hurt all the same.