I keyed the Scott postcode into the satnav and settled back into my seat.

‘Are you missing your job, Liza?’ Maya asked, once she’d driven a mile or two.

I wondered if my slip of the tongue had got her thinking about my change in circumstances.

‘Yes,’ I truthfully said. At least I could be honest about that. ‘Although, at this time of year it’s hectic. Imagine, if you can, trying to manage a whole load of teens, who pretend they’re too cool to care about Christmas, from getting too excited about it.’

Maya gave a shudder. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ she said. ‘I’ve got two younger brothers and a sister at home and negotiating my way through and between them is hard enough. The thought of a class of twenty.’ She dithered again.

That no doubt accounted for her ability to stay calm in a crisis. Growing up in a large family she would have seen and waded through her fair share of battles and rows.

‘Nearer a class of thirty more like,’ I corrected her. ‘In mainstream school that is.’

Maya whistled under her breath.

‘Would you consider going back to it?’ she interestedly asked, as the Australian accented chap narrating directions on her satnav told her to take the next left.

‘Not teaching in a mainstream school,’ I quickly said, shrinking from the thought of the weeks I’d misguidedly just covered. ‘But I would like to carry on in some way,’ I told her. It was the most revealing thing I could say without giving away too much. ‘I enjoy the nurturing role a lot more than regular teaching. Looking out for the kids who find school tricky and don’t necessarily see Christmas as a good thing.’

‘Are there kids who don’t see Christmas as a good thing?’ she laughed.

‘Unfortunately, yes.’ I swallowed. ‘There are plenty of students who dread all the holidays. Not everyone is blessed with home being their safe and happy place, Maya.’

I could feel her eyes on me for a moment.

‘God,’ she said, her smile fading. ‘That’s a terrible thought.’

‘For some it’s a reality,’ I said, sadly.

‘So, do you use art in your counselling and therapy?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and we get outdoors a lot too. In my experience, the students are more willing to open up and share things in a relaxed and open environment. Outdoors we can potter and gather, with no eye contact, and then use what we find to make something or inspire a painting or a collage. You get the idea.’

‘I do,’ she smiled again. ‘It sounds great. Fresh air is free and you can’t beat time spent in nature when it comes to lifting your spirits and clearing your head.’

‘Exactly,’ I agreed.