When Donna is updated she assures me that I am doing the right thing. This should be between Tom and me, she says, devaluing any interference from the social worker. Donna also suggests that Tom and I should sit down and talk about it, that we both need to know each other’s feelings. Shouting things out during a row doesn’t count. I can tell the woman has probably indulged in a bit of counselling herself.

Donna surprises me when she asks me to be understanding of Tom’s situation. Even though he lied to me about how long he has known about Kenny, he probably only lied because he’s a man and in Donna’s opinion men never know what to do. ‘Always kicking the can down the road,’ she says. Thankfully the red wine is dulling my senses. At this stage I’m just listening to her words.

After what felt like an hour but the clock on the wall confirms to be two, I begin to wonder why Tom hasn’t rung looking for me. Does he not care where I am? Lifting the phone from my handbag my breathing stops. Endless missed calls and messages. Shit, I’d forgotten to take it off silent when I left the social worker.

‘I better ring him.’ But the phone goes straight to voicemail – and shit, some of these calls are from Amber’s phone.

‘Something’s up, Donna.’ Standing up quickly, the room spins, so I hold on tightly to the corner of the counter. ‘Everyone’s looking for me.’

‘Now don’t panic.’ She gets me a glass with water. ‘Everyone is always looking for Mammy when she disappears for a few hours.’

‘No, something’s up, I know it, Amber should not be ringing me, she’s supposed to be next door babysitting and Tom’s phone is going to voicemail.’

‘Here, drink this.’ Donna hands me the glass of cold water. It slips down my throat like a shot of reality. She takes the empty glass and goes back to the sink to fill it up again. I’m hitting Amber’s contact with my shaky finger.

‘Where the fuck are you?’ she yells down the phone. I’m shocked by her language but even more shocked by the fear in her voice.

‘Amber, what’s going on?’

‘We were looking everywhere for you, ringing you, ringing the salon.’

‘What is it, Amber?’ My heart beats faster, something bad has happened.

‘Come home, Ma, please, come home now.’

‘I’m on my way, Amber. I’ll be there in two minutes. What’s going on? What happened?’ My mind races, I picture an accident, Cian, Aaron, blood, I see tears, I see frightened little faces. Taking a deep breath, I try not to show Amber how panicked I am.

‘Are the boys okay?’