My phone beeped. Melissa, telling me she was going to send something through in a little while.

‘I’m just going outside for a sec.’ I stood. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

I stood outside in the dank daylight, a day leached of all colour. Leant against the hospital wall, waiting, wanted to scream, on and on; I wanted to beg someone to help him, to help us. I wanted to run round the car park like a mad woman, demanding justice.

Was this what life was now? Lurching from one crisis to the next?

Having teenagers had proved so much harder than I had ever imagined. One minute I’d been changing nappies and fighting sleepless nights; the next I was running after scooters and trikes and sleeping like the dead.

Until it had gone full circle. Now I was sleepless again, praying they were safe when they went out late; when they went skateboarding, biking with no helmet; when they drove cars; when they went abroad to party with friends, drinking too much, smoking things they shouldn’t; when they turned the wrong way up on a trapeze.

It was all completely terrifying. The cost of mother love.

But – school? That was at least meant to be a safe space; albeit one he’d been temporarily excluded from.

It wasn’t a good life, lived like this. It was merely surviving.

And yet survival was all that seemed to be left now.

Leaning against the wall, beside the sign to the maternity wing, I closed my eyes, Zach’s poor injured face spinning through my head.

I saw Willow, those perfect features, calm and serene on the camping trip, not even affected by those hash brownies.

This was, it appeared, the old adage. This was survival of the fittest.

I opened my eyes – and I saw Willow in real life, crossing the car park in her mother’s shadow, away from A & E. Head down, tense, Nella striding ahead.

But – why was this girl here, now?

So she’d been the one to attack him – or to instigate it – after all the damage done already.

Hadn’t she caused enough damage?

Unable to trust myself, I turned away.

Melissa

‘I rang you first,’ Lynette said breathlessly as she opened the front door. ‘I haven’t even let Rex know yet.’

Thank God. ‘Where is she?’ Hurriedly, I stepped into the hall.

‘I couldn’t wake her at first.’ Lynette pointed at the lounge door. ‘But she’s been sick now, really sick, and she’s awake.’

‘Sounds like Ces,’ I tried to joke, but my heart was going at a gallop. ‘Puking her guts up.’

‘I think she’s – I’m not sure. I do think she’s OK, just a bit woozy now, but I’ve rung 999 anyway.’

‘Good thinking.’ I scurried into the lounge.

Cecilia, curled up on the sofa, ashen: sick bowl and towels on the floor beside her. Half-litre vodka bottle, empty, in the bin; half a bottle of white wine on the armchair.