‘You have to open them sometime,’ said Bill, gently. I regarded the pile of envelopes on the table. Some had come in the last few days, and some I’d found in Mike’s briefcase, which was still in our room. I told myself it was OK to go through it, when he was still unconscious. Bills, letters, flyers from legal firms. I found the last particularly insulting. It meant everyone knew what we’d become, a family who needed a defence.

It was the following morning. Benji had gone off to school, clean and neatly dressed and fed, thanks to Bill. Cassie was upstairs in her room still. I had to make her go back to school this week. I was trying to pretend things were normal, and that meant doing normal things. Like opening the post.

I reminded myself the bills couldn’t be that bad. Mike had only been off work for a few days. That would be covered by sick leave, surely. I picked up a thick cream envelope with the crest of Cassie’s school on it. It was addressed to Mr and Mrs Michael Morris, because in their world it was 1937. I wondered why it was in Mike’s briefcase, why he hadn’t left it for me to open. The words swam in front of my eyes. Numbers, figures.

‘I can’t make head nor tail of this, can you? It’s a bill?’

Bill took it from me. ‘It says the fees were last paid in January. Months ago.’

I snatched it back. ‘What? That can’t be right. I’m calling them.’

I seized the phone and punched in the number, my hands shaking with anger. All the money we’d poured into that school and this was what happened. A stupid mix-up. Maybe Mike’s account was suspended since he was in hospital. But how would the bank even know that? I thought of all the bills that were on autopay, everything down to the Netflix account. As if I needed that right now. ‘Yes, hello? It’s Ali Morris here. I’ve just had your letter.’

The school secretary was twenty-five but efficient as a cog gear. ‘Good morning, Mrs Morris. It’s the bursar you’d need to speak to if it’s about fees.’

‘Have you any idea what we’re going through? My husband is in hospital, in a coma.’

‘Yes, I’m very sorry to hear that.’ Her voice was so cool. I was trying to think of her name. Alicia? Yes, that was it. ‘But unfortunately we can’t make special exceptions for . . .’

‘Cassie has her exams. Does she really need this extra pressure?’

‘It’s just, Mrs Morris, the fees have been overdue for some time. We did write to you several times.’