‘The man behind the mirror twisted and turned the evil queen’s insecurity on looks and age into a weapon. Young and old, Madonna and whore – society wants us women to fit neatly into boxes. Snow White is a symbol of the male ideal of purity, youth and beauty that the evil queen cannot measure up to and so she tries to destroy her. With an apple. Just like Eve.’

The fact a nursery teacher had just said ‘whore’ in a nursery was the least surprising takeaway from that speech.

‘And why does the evil queen fail to kill Snow White? Because another man sexually dominates her incapacitated form, egged on by seven small men who are clearly a personalisation of the seven deadly sins.’

‘I just . . . I . . . what?’ Will looked around the room. ‘What’s going on?’ I gave him a sharp jab with my elbow. He swivelled to me. ‘She’s nuts, right? We let this woman look after our child and she’s totally nuts.’

Yvonne continued, ‘So, you see, women can try and take control of the narrative, take charge of their own image, yet the overwhelming power of the patriarchy means they will fail. The man in the mirror belittles the evil queen and turns her against the sisterhood, yet when she tries to destroy this male concept of female perfection she cannot succeed because a woman is no match for a man’s virulent sexuality. The evil queen is ruined twice over by two different men.’

We all sat in silence for a minute. A respectful quiet to mourn the loss of fairy tales’ innocence.

‘On reflection,’ said Weather Mum weakly, ‘the books you read are fine. Totally fine.’

The coup was crushed.

‘Please do feel free to stay for a drink,’ trilled Yvonne as we all got up to charge for the exit. We passed by her, heads down, muttering about needing to get back for the babysitter.

Halfway back home I realised in the rush to exit I’d left Gigi’s runner bean plant under my chair. I relayed this disaster to Will and we analysed just how much not having the plant she’d been talking about all week would screw up our morning.

Will sighed. ‘You go on. I’ll get it.’

‘You’re my hero,’ I said to his departing back.

*

By the time Will walked in, wilted plant in hand, the kitchen table was unpacked with Chinese takeaway.

‘Ta-daa. Look, honey, I ordered.’ Deliverooing on the walk home was a mark of genius on my part.

Will dropped the plant on the kitchen counter, went to the fridge and took out a beer.

‘Rochelle was still there when I got back to the school.’

Shit.

‘She couldn’t stop talking about how funny it was seeing you and Johnnie Mac being dropped off in a chauffeur-driven limousine.’

‘He’s actually an old friend.’