‘How dare you even insinuate I’m not!’

‘But we can trust Rebecca to look after Archie.’ The connotation is that he does not trust me. Years of dealing with the anniversary, tiptoeing around my triggers and the horrors of the past has taken its toll on George. It has taken its toll on us. He’s right although I am loath to admit it. Even after tomorrow it won’t be over. It will never be over.

‘Please, Mummy, please, Mummy, please Mummy.’

‘No!’ I shout and Archie bursts into tears. ‘I’m sorry.’ I rush over to him and wrap him in my arms.

‘If Mummy won’t let you go on your trip’ – George doesn’t say can’t and in this moment I feel as resentful of his lack of understanding as he is of my foibles – ‘then perhaps she’ll take you to the park and you can gather some things to take in on Monday.’

‘Yes! Park. Park. Park.’ Archie’s tears instantly dry.

‘Please come?’ I ask George.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve really got to go to this meeting. Can you manage, Leah?’

Power of attorney. Diminished mental capacity.

‘Yes.’

As soon as George has left I call Carly to ask if she can come with me but I can barely hear her. Her voice almost gone. On a whim I ring Tash to see if she fancies a walk but she tells me she has an emergency dentist’s appointment for a throbbing tooth.

I am on my own.

‘Mummy, too fast!’ Archie tries to wriggle his hand free of mine but I hold on tightly as we march past the newsagent’s where I had seen him last night on the way home from parents’ evening. As the road widens I begin to feel a little safer. There’s more traffic. Pedestrians stare at their mobile phones as they somehow weave around each other. There are several dog walkers, leads gripped in hands.

The park is busy. There’s a pang of nostalgia as I eye the baby swings. Remember lifting Archie who stretched his pudgy arms towards me. Gently patting his bottom to see how full his nappy was. Now he tries to run towards the play equipment. I pull him back.

‘We’re here for the nature table, remember?’

‘Just a little, tiny go on the slide.’ He presses his thumb and index finger together before opening them a fraction. ‘One small go?’ he asks forlornly.

‘One,’ I say. Although I feel unsettled here, I felt equally unsettled at home. At least now there’s safety in numbers, I think, as I glance around at the other mums. Archie thunders up the steps, no careful climbing for him although he does at least hold the handrail. He whizzes down and the joy on his face breaks through my agitation.

‘Go on,’ I say before he can ask for another go. After the slide it’s the roundabout. The climbing frame. It’s here he falters, not yet brave enough to climb higher than five rungs, not appreciating that the slide he loves is even taller. ‘Shall we go find some leaves and stuff?’ I ask.