Gaia gave a small, demonic smile. Then, in a loud voice, an about face: ‘Come on, Coco. We love spending the day with Daddy, don’t we? It’s going to be so much fun.’

Tom looked happily surprised. Coco seemed to follow Gaia’s lead, for she fell silent and allowed Tom to strap her into the baby carrier that he hoisted on to his back. I almost asked him where he was headed, given that the area outside the house was a construction site, but I held back in case he decided to quit his plans altogether.

When the door finally closed I stood for a moment, bathing in the silence. No squealing. No stomping of feet or sound of something smashing to the ground in a million pieces. Bliss.

I headed back to my room, climbed back into bed, and flipped open my laptop.

‘Sophie?’

I looked up to find Maren standing in the doorway to my room.

‘Might I have a quick word?’

My heart sank. This didn’t sound good at all.

‘Yes, of course.’

She came in and shut the door, then clasped her hands and smiled.

‘I thought we might have a review of your tenure,’ she said. Tenure? I couldn’t even pretend to understand what this meant. ‘How are you finding the job?’

‘Fine,’ I said with an innocent, so-glad-you-asked smile. I hoped that this would be enough to make her leave.

‘Fine?’ she said, cocking her head. She kept darting her eyes around the room in a way that made me wonder if she suspected I had someone else in here with me. An errant builder hiding under my bed, perhaps. ‘How is Gaia’s education going? Hmmm? Because I noticed you hadn’t filled in the log book.’

‘Log book?’

This was the first I’d heard of the log book. I felt my cheeks burn and my voice was thinned by guilt. Her eyes flicked across the room, and I suddenly interpreted the whole scenario – the question about the log book was a trap. She already knew I was lying about who I was. And I surprised myself, because despite how completely and utterly wrung out I was, I didn’t want to leave. I loved those girls, and I loved being part of a family, albeit a grief-stricken, distracted one. I felt needed, or necessary. And in any case, I’d be homeless again if they kicked me out.

‘Maybe I’m using the wrong term,’ Maren said, suddenly doubting herself. ‘It’s the … uh … learning folder. Learning journey booklet.’

‘OK,’ I said slowly, flooded with relief. She really was asking about the log book. I played along with her confusion, trying to mask my confusion at the existence of some sort of log book by pretending I was wrong-footed by its correct translation.