Nausea squeezed my intestines together over my uneaten breakfast of Honey Nut Cheerios, while Mum’s nerves crackled static around my freshly washed hair.

“Are you going to be all right?” she asked again over her cup of green tea. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Christ, Mum, I’m going to be fine.” I picked up a spoon of soggy cereal and plopped it back into the bowl. “Amy’s meeting me at the corner.”

“Why don’t I drive you both? Just in case you don’t cope.”

“Mum!”

“Not every day. Just your first day back.”

“We’re walking, it’s fine.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to do what’s best for you.”

It felt hugely surreal, reigniting the clockwork routine of getting ready to leave the house, like remembering the lines to an old play I’d once starred in. I re-trod my former footsteps, packing my JanSport rucksack, brushing my teeth, checking how much credit I had on my phone, digging out my old pencil tin filled with strawberry-scented gel Pentels, where the ink had hardened around the nibs. I’d missed the whole summer term of school. I hadn’t done this since you could buy Easter eggs in the shops, and now it was September. Mum stalked me with wide eyes, asking inane questions to satisfy her anxiety rather than mine.

“Have you topped up your phone so you can call if you need to? You can always use the school phone. Do you want a chewy bar to take in? Take a chewy bar.” She shoved one into my bag as I was hoisting it onto my shoulders. “Do you think you’re going to need to call me to come and pick you up? Because I do have a meeting, so I’d rather know now if you don’t think you’ll make it through the day.”

“Bye, Mum.”

“You can call me anytime. Anytime. Just not between ten and four.”