The school had three classrooms, a teacher and assistant for each, and a bubbly friendly head, Mrs Furnival. Of course, she knew what had happened to Beth and how hard it had hit us, and she watched us approach the entrance with a look of surprise.

‘Hello, Elliot,’ she said. ‘Welcome back. Everyone’s missed you.’

‘Good morning, Mrs Furnival,’ he replied flatly as he turned to me.

I dropped to his level and he threw his arms around my neck.

‘See you at three,’ I said. ‘I love you, little man.’

‘Love you too, Dad,’ he replied, before going inside with his friend Asif.

‘How’s he doing?’ Mrs Furnival asked.

‘Pretty much as expected.’ I felt tears coming, but I didn’t want to make a scene.

‘And you?’ she added.

I nodded and managed to force out, ‘OK. Thank you. Please take care of him.’

She gave me a sympathetic look, and I hurried along the path back to the car park. I got the now familiar glances of pity from some of the other parents, but no one stopped me. Perhaps I looked too much of a mess?

I made it back to my car and roared out of there. I cried most of the way to Keele. I can’t remember what started me off, but once I got going, I kept fixating on Elliot all alone in that school. He had friends and teachers, but none of them knew him the way I did. None of them understood him or what he was going through. Only I knew that. Our grief had formed a connection so profound no other could match it. What if something happened to me? What if I lost the strength to continue? These thoughts panicked me. Despite everything, I’d never considered the new reality: I was a single parent. One doing everything once done by two.

I told myself to stop being so pathetic, that millions of people managed and that I would too.

My own brand of tough realism worked, and by the time I’d finally crossed the green hills and rich fields of Staffordshire and reached the science park, I’d stopped crying.

I pulled into my usual space in the shade of a great oak tree, and started towards the building where I worked, but something stopped me from going inside. Instead, I slumped on one of the benches that were scattered around the manicured gardens.

I sat and watched leaves tumble across grass that danced in the breeze. The blades were like little fingers reaching up to trap the errant leaves, but they couldn’t be caught and rolled on, only to collect in an ugly pile in the shadow of a low wall, prisoners of the wind that had freed them. I felt there should be some significance in their journey, but my nihilism was so absolute, I couldn’t be bothered to search for it. So I sat and watched the leaves tumble, taking cruel joy in the knowledge their journey would bring neither benefit, nor meaning. Just an end.