Daisy nodded. ‘Yeah, well, that. Octavia and Scarlett are really bitter. They were there when Mum had this attack. And she … well, made a bad smell.’ In a whisper, she added, as if she had to make sure Laurel got the gravity of the situation, ‘She farted. Mum couldn’t help it. Having a bad stomach during a panic attack isn’t funny, but Octavia and Scarlett killed themselves laughing behind her back, holding their noses and pretending to gag. I don’t think Mum noticed because she was struggling to get her breath.’ Daisy shook her head, more weary and weighed down than any fourteen-year-old should ever have to be. ‘We never got into the main hall for the parents’ evening. I took Mum back to the car and we sat in there until she could drive home.’

Heart bleeding for her niece, Laurel gripped Daisy’s sweating hand. ‘That sounds horrible. I’m sorry you had to cope with it. I can go with you to parents’ evenings now your mum’s made me an official contact at the school.’

‘Thanks.’ Daisy brushed the offer aside so casually that it obviously wasn’t the source of her unhappiness. ‘Then Scarlett and Octavia came up to me the next day and said Mum had … had—’ Daisy had to sip water before she could go on. ‘That Mum had pooed herself. They called her crappy knickers and poopy pants. They began writing notes about it and saying stuff in front of people – not exactly what happened but just that there was something they knew. Dropping hints. Making the other kids all go, “What? What?”.’

‘I can imagine,’ Laurel said, sympathetically. She saw all-too-clearly why Daisy felt she couldn’t confide in her mother. Rea would be mortified beyond bearing. ‘Anxiety does affect the gut, which is why exams can give us stomach-ache. Were Scarlett and Octavia in English lessons with you last year and art this year, by any chance?’

Daisy shot her a grateful look. ‘Yeah, you’ve got it. And in those two lessons I’m not with Niall and Zuzanna or other village friends. Octavia and Scarlett get those fake dog poos and put them in my bag. They send me emojis of poo.’ She gulped. ‘And,’ the tears began to ooze again, ‘this just arrived.’

She took out her phone and turned it to show Laurel a text. Hey shitty knickers we’ve decided you need to pay us not to tell everyone about your mum. A tenner each will do for starters cos we need to start our Christmas shopping. The message was ornamented by two Mother Christmas emojis and, as Daisy had said, heaps of poo.