Monday morning didn’t turn out to be the calm, organised time I’d planned it to be. I felt groggy and out of sorts, even though I hadn’t touched any tablets since the early hours of yesterday.

Evie was still clearly shaken by the wasp attack, aside from the physical discomfort of the still red, scratchy swellings on her arms and face.

‘Can you button up my cardigan please, Mummy?’ she asked in a small voice, her face forlorn.

‘Come on, a big girl like you knows how to button up, don’t you?’ I chided her, tickling under her chin.

‘I want you to do it.’

I’d plaited her blonde wavy hair into two braids. The red and grey uniform suited her, seeming to add a little colour into her pasty cheeks, which were still dotted here and there with the unsightly red blobs.

I buttoned her cardi up and pulled her gently to me and we had a little cuddle, silent in each other’s affection for a few seconds.

Then Evie pulled away and looked at me.

‘Mummy, are you taking me to school today?’

‘Am I taking you to school?’ I repeated with outraged amazement that brought the ghost of a smile to her lips. ‘OF COURSE I’m taking you to school, silly munchkin. I wouldn’t miss that for all the tea in China.’

I tickled her belly and waited for the throaty giggle I loved so much. But Evie stepped away from my wriggling fingers, edgy and wary. Her face grew solemn again.

‘Are you picking me up from school, too?’

I swear to God my daughter had an overdeveloped sixth sense. She could invariably pick up vibes from whatever was laying heavy on my heart at any given time of the day. Even when I thought I’d done a pretty good job of covering up the cracks.

‘Are you?’ she demanded.

‘No, because Nanny is picking you up from school, isn’t she? If you remember—’

‘No!’

Mum had already called Evie on my phone this morning to wish her luck and to tell her she’d be seeing her at the end of school.

‘Evie, don’t start. Nanny wants to pick you up and hear all about your day. You don’t want to upset her now, do you?’ I felt rotten even as I said it. What kind of mother tries to silence a five-year-old with emotional blackmail? But I had to do something to stop the threatened tantrum I could feel hovering like an imminent storm.

‘But I want you to pick me up on my first day, Mummy.’ Her big blue eyes shone, pleading with me. Her bottom lip wobbled. ‘Pleeease?’

I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath in.

Why did it feel like life always conspired to make parenting so damn difficult? Of all the days for me to get an interview for the job, it had to be this one.

It had all happened so quickly from me submitting my application, I could never have reasonably anticipated problems with Evie’s first day at big school.

‘Mummy, please?’ Evie whined again, sensing weakness.

---

In the afternoon, after a sandwich and a quick shower, I dressed for the interview in my smart Ted Baker navy trouser suit and white blouse.

The outfit was now a few fashion seasons old but it still looked the part. Better than my custom leggings and T-shirt, at least.

I wondered if I’d ever be in a financial position that allowed me to shop for clothes at Ted Baker again.

It was clear I’d lost a bit of weight since I bought it a couple of years ago. Obviously, I’d noticed my clothes getting looser, but after I finished work, there was no need to dress for the office and I started to live in ‘loungewear’ – a nicer sounding word than ‘scruffs’ or ‘comfies’. Clothes that felt the same, whatever your weight.

Losing weight through grief led to a scrawny, malnourished body. There had been no celebratory buying of new clothes when I’d dropped two dress sizes.

I stood in front of the wardrobe and scrutinized my image in the long mirror fixed to the inside door. I suppose I didn’t look too bad, considering.

The jacket hung a little big on my shoulders and I could have done with a belt for the trousers. Luckily, as we were both a size six, Mum had been able to loan me a pair of M&S black court shoes, avoiding another unnecessary expense.

I pulled my shoulders back a bit and stood a little taller. I smiled widely at myself in the mirror to check I had nothing unsightly stuck in my teeth.

I’d already gotten out of the habit of wearing make-up. There really wasn’t any need, stuck in the house most days. But today I’d used a bit of mascara and a pale pink lipstick I’d found at the bottom of my handbag. A dusting of bronzer and a slick of clear gloss on top of the lip colour and I looked fairly presentable.

I patted my chestnut brown hair, neat in its French roll that I’d pinned and sprayed to within an inch of its life. We’d not been able to afford a holiday again this year but my hair had a few natural highlights, pretty glimmers of gold harvested from hours spent with Evie in our old garden, where I would snatch reading time as she splashed in her small inflatable pool with one or more of her little friends from nursery school.

Confidence. That’s what I needed to exude today.

I’d certainly lost all of the managerial demeanour I used to possess, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

I intended to play down my previous work history as much as I could in the interview anyway. The last thing I wanted was to put them off because they thought they’d be employing a know-all done-it-all.

I checked I had everything in my handbag before I left, including two glowing references from the directors of the previous company I’d worked for, and headed out of the house.

It was cloudy but warm outside and I slipped my jacket off before getting into the car. I’d been unable to get Evie’s pleading voice out of my head all morning, begging me to pick her up from school. ‘Please, Mummy, please.’ It echoed again at me now.

In the end, she’d gone into school quite happily, which had been a massive relief. There were lots of teachers on hand to take the new Primary-year-one children from reluctant parental hands on their first day.

Before we left home, I’d ended up agreeing that if it was humanly possible, I would pick her up from school. I said this knowing full well that with a three o’clock interview, there was no way on earth I was going to make it back to St Saviour’s for three thirty.

I disliked myself for doing it, but the little fib had been worth it to put a smile back on Evie’s face, and it had made our journey out of the house so much smoother.

I sat for a moment in the car and programmed the postcode of Gregory’s Property Services into the satnav. It said the journey would take thirteen minutes and I was allowing thirty. Barring an alien invasion, there would really be no need to panic.

I pressed back into the headrest and took a few deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth, just like the relaxation app had suggested. I thought about the little brown bottle I’d salvaged from the bathroom cabinet and tucked away in the zipped compartment of my handbag. Just in case.

I’d done it just for insurance purposes, to make me feel a little more secure. A tablet might help with my heart rate and anxiety but I needed my wits about me more than ever today, and I had to drive, too.

I pulled away from the kerb and turned left out of the estate. Cinderhill Road was busy. It was a road that carried lots of traffic towards the big island at the top, funnelling vehicles on to the A610 and eventually the M1 motorway beyond that.

Today though, I was travelling in the opposite direction and the traffic flowed fairly lightly. The road swept steeply down, past cramped rows of terraced houses with weathered bricks and peeling cream sills, long overdue for a lick of paint. I continued over the tram lines at the bottom.

I glanced at the satnav screen and took a right turn at the mini roundabout and then headed out past Moor Bridge and towards Hucknall town centre. I passed young mothers pushing brightly coloured strollers and a group of hooded youths lounging on a bench with beer cans.

This morning, Evie and I had walked to school and it had taken us just under fifteen minutes. I’d silently rebuked myself yet again for missing our appointment to look around St Saviour’s. Unfortunately, they had been unable to fit us in again before the start of the new term.

Evie had been quite the little chatterbox right up until the school’s wrought-iron gates came into view and then she’d become suddenly quieter, the nerves kicking in.

‘It’s going to be fine, darling.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘You’ll have such a lovely day.’

‘But I won’t know anyone,’ Evie remarked. ‘Daisy, Nico and Martha are my best friends and none of them are here.’

The four young friends had been inseparable in reception class at North View Primary, her old school. My stomach twisted at the thought of her sitting alone in class.

And then I remembered.

‘There’ll be lots of children here who don’t know anyone,’ I said as we neared the propped-open side gate. ‘I bet you’ll have tons of friends by the end of the day, and besides, you do know someone. Someone important.’

‘Huh?’ Evie looked up at me, her little forehead furrowing around two angry-looking stings.

‘Miss Watson, of course,’ I said brightly. ‘You already know the teacher, so you’ll be the best girl!’

Her face lit up. ‘Yay, I’ll be the best girl!’

She sang it on repeat as we approached the gate. I was so grateful to leave her happy and smiling. Of course, when I came away, I was the one who felt choked. I could see that most of the other parents of the new five-year-olds felt exactly the same.

But for us, it was even more significant. I was being a fairly crap mum at the moment, but when it came down to it, Evie being happy was number one in my priorities. If her first day at school went well, that would be a massive step towards carving out our new life.

My beeping phone broke me out of my thoughts, the satnav informing me I had now arrived at my destination. I parked up on a little side street and bought a parking ticket for a two-hour duration.

Slipping on my jacket, I grabbed my handbag and tried to ignore my heart battering against my ribcage.

I set off across the road towards the double-fronted, professional-looking estate agency that was Gregory’s Property Services.

My heart felt light and hopeful; my stomach was riddled with knots.