Dropping my gaze, I will him to message me, if only to tell me he’s all right. I desperately want to speak to him, to tell him I trust him. I have to, despite my uncertainty. And he has to be able to trust me. I hope he can, after today. Without trust, our marriage will be over anyway.

‘Karla, hi,’ someone calls across the playground. ‘Long time no see.’

I snap my gaze up to see a mother I know waving at me from under her brolly.

‘Holly and Josh are still inside,’ she yells, and hurries on through the rain to the gates.

I haven’t noticed that the drizzle has turned to heavy rain. I haven’t noticed, either, that the exodus of children from the school has dwindled to a straggle. ‘Thanks, Mel,’ I shout back, and hurry in the direction of the building, wondering what’s keeping them.

Pushing through the doors, I almost walk into Holly’s teacher, who greets me with a flustered smile. ‘Hi, Mrs Connolly,’ she says. ‘Holly said you were picking them up. I was just coming out to find you. We’ve had a bit of an incident, I’m afraid.’

‘Incident?’ I repeat, a tingle of apprehension running through me as I follow her down the corridor.

Miss Thompson stops as we round the corner to the headmistress’s office. Josh is sitting on a chair, his head down and his hands tucked under his thighs. ‘We’ve had a little bit of bullying in class,’ she says, with a sigh. ‘It’s not something we tolerate, obviously, so we’re speaking to the parents of the boy responsible, but…’

But what? Alarmed, I look away from my vulnerable boy and back to her.

‘Holly hit him,’ Miss Thompson informs me, her expression one of correct disapproval, though I see a smidgeon of admiration in her eyes. ‘She was sticking up for her brother, but you’ll understand that we can’t condone it. Could you have a word, do you think?’

‘Of course,’ I assure her, swallowing back my heart, which is wedged somewhere in my throat. ‘Can I?’ I nod towards Josh, my emotions in turmoil. I’m angry and mortified for my boy, who’s one of the smallest in his class and seems to get picked on, but also quietly proud of my daughter, who I never imagined would stick up for her little brother like this.

‘He’s fine.’ Miss Thompson nods me on. ‘No damage, apart from his glasses.’

I’m horrified as I realise the implication. ‘His glasses?’

Miss Thompson clearly understands my panic. ‘Oh no, he wasn’t in an actual fight,’ she reassures me quickly. ‘The boy was calling him names. Josh got upset. He took his glasses off to wipe them and dropped them, and… he stood on them, I’m afraid.’