I walked outside and called Bryony’s number. Her phone rang but went to voicemail. I tried again and left a message.

‘Hi, Bryony, it’s Toni here. I know it’s ridiculously short notice, but I was calling to see if you could pick Evie up at four thirty? I’m still at A&E with Mum. She’s a bit shaky and I’d rather not leave her unless I have to.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘If you can let me know in the next five minutes, that would be great, otherwise I’ll go and get her, no problem.’

I ended the call and rang the school office at St Saviour’s Primary.

The answerphone picked up right away. ‘The office is now closed . . .’

I thought about leaving a message but decided to end the call. My mind felt fuzzy, clouded by worry about Mum and concern over Evie. It wouldn’t hurt to wait for a few minutes outside, get a few breaths of fresh air and see if Bryony rang back.

The air was fresh and still damp from a recent shower. I looked down at the ill-maintained layer of concrete outside reception that was long overdue for replacement. A cooling breeze fanned my hot face and neck and for a moment I felt like sitting down there and then to gather my thoughts.

I imagined Bryony picking up my phone message and rushing out to her car. I’d been astounded this afternoon that she’d seemed so understanding and, more than that, genuinely helpful. Maybe she was beginning to thaw at long last. Daft as it sounded, sometimes it took a crisis to give people the impetus to get along.

I waited a minute longer and then went back inside. I tapped on the door of the treatment room and walked in.

Tom was talking to Mum in reassuring tones.

‘There you are. Your mum’s been telling me she’s worried about her memory.’ He looked up at me. ‘She’s been forgetting she’s done things and mislaying things.’

‘She hasn’t.’ I shook my head. ‘Only today. She didn’t remember putting her shoes on the stairs, the ones she tripped over. That’s right, isn’t it, Mum?’

‘There are other things,’ Mum said, twisting her fingers around each other. ‘Things that I’ve forgotten but I didn’t want to worry you about.’

‘Like what?’ I glanced at the clock. Five minutes past four and Bryony hadn’t returned my call. I was going to have to leave. ‘Look, I’ve got to go and pick up Evie now. Let’s talk when I come back.’

My breathing had become rapid and shallow.

Tom frowned. I wished Mum hadn’t said anything about her concerns in front of him; he’d only worry her further if he delved into things.

‘I thought I could get someone to pick my daughter up,’ I explained to him. ‘But I can’t get hold of her so I’ve no choice but to go.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Mum said, but her voice shook and she bit down on her lip.

‘Oh, Mum.’ I knelt at her side and took her hand. ‘I’m sorry I’ve got to go. I’ll bring Evie back here and then we can all go home and spend the evening together. OK?’

Mum nodded, her eyes shining.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Tom. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

I walked for what seemed like miles, cursing Mum’s court shoes, which cramped and pinched at my feet. When I’d paid the parking and got through the barrier, I queued at the exit of the hospital campus behind a long line of other vehicles that were waiting to leave.

It was twelve minutes past four by the time I hit the main road.

It was going to be tight to get there for four thirty, but I’d left a message on the school answerphone so they knew I’d be coming.

I felt a little dazed – but pleasantly so, as if the sharp gnaw of anxiety had been curbed. I concentrated extra hard on my driving. I knew that technically I shouldn’t be on the road but I felt fine and it was a while since I’d taken a pill. I felt sure it would be virtually out of my system by now.

Both Mum and Evie needed me and I wouldn’t let them down.

I took a shortcut through the back streets to avoid the busiest parts of town, passing a newsagent where older boys gathered on bikes, eating sweets and shouting to other kids across the road. A group of workmen lingered further along, resplendent in high-vis jackets and hard hats, leaning on their red and white barriers, displaying their paunches to any pedestrian or driver that cared to look.

The tablet I’d taken earlier had afforded me a little welcome separation from reality and I felt I could focus better, instead of being distracted by the million-and-one worries swirling around in my head.

I listened to Smooth Radio, sang along to some old songs that weren’t cool anymore but lifted my spirits. For ten minutes I didn’t have a problem. I drove without hindrance, the traffic moving along slowly but making progress. And then, as I approached Moor Bridge, it ground to a halt.

Two lanes of traffic, trailing all the way back to the bypass.

‘Shit.’ I had eight minutes to get to Evie’s school.

Heart hammering, I pressed my phone screen until I reached the BBC’s traffic updates. There had been an accident near the City hospital, so I had no choice but to sit in the glut of vehicles until I could get to the roundabout and head for Bulwell.

I swung the car into the outside lane to try and get ahead, but soon realised everyone else had had the same idea. This was my only chance of getting to school on time.

It was twenty-five minutes past four and here I was, stuck in gridlocked traffic that showed no sign of moving.