Catriona’s own heart suddenly begins to beat faster. So loud that it thumps in her ears, drowning out the mall music and the echoing chatter of the other customers. She takes a moment to breathe, but the thumping in her body won’t quiet down. Without thinking, she stands and walks back to the kiosk. Queues behind the mother who’s now selecting an assortment of pastries to go with their drinks. Catriona’s gaze sweeps across the cakes displayed behind the glass. They’re all too big, too grown-up and far too messy for a child to eat. She gives an inward smile as she spies just what she’s looking for in a large glass jar on top of the counter – a cookie in the shape of a rabbit, its long ears and small nose iced in pale pink. Perfect.

Catriona waits until the mother has finished ordering, and then she purchases the cookie along with a small chocolate bar to perk herself up – she’s starting to feel a little light-headed, realising she hasn’t eaten since breakfast. The girl behind the counter places the cookie on a small white plate on top of a napkin. This time, Catriona smiles at the girl and thanks her. She winds her way slowly back to her seat where her coffee is cooling on the table. She wants to act straight away but restrains herself. Instead, she sits back down, eats her chocolate and sips at her drink without tasting it, absent-mindedly picking dried mud from beneath split fingernails. Her heartbeat is still far louder than everything else around her. Its insistent thrumming helping to focus her mind on what she’s about to do.

Her face is warm now, her hands tingling, her head light and swimmy. But it’s almost a good feeling. It blocks out all the other stuff, dampens it down so it can’t be felt properly. Maybe it can all stay hidden way down there. Maybe she can squash it so small that it gets lost forever. Grains of dark grit floating endlessly down in a bottomless ocean.

The little girl waves at her again, emerging from the plastic house with a shy smile. Catriona glances over at the mothers, who are now deep in conversation, talking fast while shovelling pastries into their mouths and sucking down their frothy coffees. They’re seated too far away from the play area. If she were that little girl’s mother, she’d be sitting at the edge of the café with a direct view of her daughter. Not angled away and oblivious.