‘Allie!’ Tara catches me up as I cut through the almost empty car park after collecting Mina, who, as it turns out, was absolutely fine in the end. ‘Allie, how are you? I’ve missed you.’

She has? ‘Mina had a temperature; I thought I should keep her home.’ I think of the nursery Mina went to as a baby in Gravesend. None of the mothers and carers there would have noticed if we hadn’t turned up for a day or two.

‘Oh, poor thing. She seems much better now.’ Mina is hopping on one foot beside me. ‘I did try to catch you this morning, but you were in your own little world.’ Tara cocks her head on one side, and I get the feeling she knows I heard her. ‘And what on earth did you do to your ankle? Are you sure you’re OK to walk on it?’

‘Oh. Yes, it’s fine. A little bit sore. I slipped coming down the stairs.’ My ankle throbs as if in response, and I shift my weight slightly to ease it. ‘I should get back; I have to try and keep the weight off my foot.’

‘Oh no, don’t rush off.’ Tara flicks her head to the left and I see Karen approaching, baby strapped to her front. ‘Karen and I are going for lunch at that little café at the end of the High Street. Come with us? It’s on the way to your house and you can put your feet up and have a coffee. Would you like that, Mina? Having cake with James?’

Mina shouts in delight and starts skipping around the pram, while I think for a moment. It’s either suffer an awkward lunch with Tara and Karen or go back home to scratching in the chimney. ‘Sounds lovely,’ I say finally.

‘Karen, you can manage the pram for Allie, can’t you?’ Tara dictates. I grip the handle so tightly my knuckles turn white.

‘No,’ I say bluntly. ‘No, I’m fine. It helps to have the pram to lean on slightly as I walk.’ I wonder if Miranda will be at lunch as Tara falls into step on my left and Karen takes my right side, making me feel as if I am being frogmarched to the café.

‘I was going to text you if you weren’t at school today,’ Tara is saying as we approach the café, Karen going ahead to hold the door open for me. I don’t remember giving her my number, but then I don’t remember taking the painkillers yesterday. The smell of hot coffee and butter wafts out from the open door of the café and my mouth starts to water. I didn’t eat breakfast, my stomach feeling heavy and nauseous after yet another sleepless night, and now it rumbles, reminding me of the fact. ‘Oh look, everyone is here!’