‘Thank you.’ From the doorway of the classroom, Claire could see Joshua sat at one of the desks, his head bowed as if he was doing his homework, but Claire could see his pen wasn’t moving and she wondered what was going through his mind. A teacher, who she presumed was Mr Robbins, was sat working but rose from his seat when Claire and Jamie walked into the room. Yet, Claire’s eyes were only on her son and as he looked up at her, she saw the fear in his eyes and all she wanted to do was take him in her arms and hold him.

When had it all become so complicated?

At the moment, she would have done anything to go back in time to when he was just a baby, all innocence and talcum powder. But it was an impossible wish and Claire knew with absolute certainty that how she handled this situation would have many implications. The enormity of responsibility, of successfully raising a boy into a good man, almost winded her.

It was Jamie who lightened the atmosphere though and his sheer delight at the unexpected meeting with his older brother broke the tension.

‘Come on, let’s go home,’ she’d said to Joshua who was now holding Jamie in one arm and having his cheeks squeezed by his brother’s pudgy hands.

With his free arm, Joshua grabbed his rucksack. Claire turned to Mr Robbins and nodded her thanks. She was surprised when the teacher spoke.

‘I’m Mr Robbins, Mrs Carmichael,’ he’d announced, holding out his hand.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ she’d said distractedly. All she’d wanted to do was get Joshua in the car and get home.

‘I teach Joshua PE,’ he continued.

‘Oh right – how’s he doing?’ replied Claire, politeness overtaking impatience.

‘Really well.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ It was then that she looked at Mr Robbins a little more closely. He looked familiar. His tall frame, broad chest, and large ears.

‘Have we met before?’ asked Claire.

‘No, I don’t think so, why?’

‘No reason.’ Claire dismissed it, keen to get home. ‘You ready, Joshua?’

‘Yep,’ replied Joshua already walking to the door. ‘Bye, Mr Robbins.’

‘Bye, Joshua.’

Claire had followed and gone to shut the classroom door behind her. It was then that she saw Mr Robbins sit down and pick up the small stress ball from his desk, squeeze it and start passing it from hand to hand.

It was that motion that had brought back another buried memory. It had been after school and most students had left for the day. Paul and Claire had been studying in the empty library. Anyone wandering in would have simply seen two students doing their homework, but underneath the table, their knees touched. Paul would occasionally take a break and reach his hand for hers, the caress concealed by the graffiti-covered desk.