Maisie sits neatly and quietly on the end of the couch, as if she’s somehow trying to make herself look smaller.

Her hands are folded in her lap, her rucksack is placed on the floor next to her shoe-clad feet, and she stares vacantly out of the glass doors at the garden beyond.

This is not usual behaviour for the girl who used to be bursting at the seams to tell me about her day. The television would be on within minutes of her arrival and the house filled with her singing and laughter. That seems like a long time ago now. Things have certainly changed, although she still won’t talk about it.

‘We can watch a film together later if you like.’ I sit down at the other end of the couch to give her some space.

She doesn’t look at me or answer, so I mirror her posture and we stare out of the window at the blossom tree’s bare branches, which wave slightly in the breeze. Just a few months ago they were a riot of pastel pink and green, decorating the lawn with petals.

‘Would you like a glass of juice?’ I ask after a few minutes.

She turns her head and looks at me with a forlorn expression. ‘Water, please,’ she croaks.

‘Water?’ I grin, trying to lighten the situation, although inside I feel a heat burning. ‘Are you on a health kick?’

She doesn’t answer, and when I take the drink over, I notice she’s slid her feet out of her shoes and bent her legs up onto the seat cushion. It’s a sign she’s relaxing a little, but I’m careful not to interrogate her, in line with Dr Yesufu’s advice.

‘I’ve got lots of work done today while you were with your dad,’ I volunteer.

‘I was hardly with Dad,’ she says quietly, staring down into her glass.

‘Oh, that’s right. He said you went to a party with Piper?’

I phrase it as a question to encourage her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. Her eyes gravitate to the window again.

‘It’s getting cooler out there,’ I remark. ‘No pretty pink petals on the blossom tree now.’

She nods, solemn.

‘Has Joanne got a big garden?’ I venture. ‘With a lawn and trees, I mean?’

‘She lives in an apartment at the top of an old house; Linby House, it’s called. There are massive gardens around it but they’re for everyone to use, not just her.’

‘Ah, yes. Communal gardens.’

After a beat of silence, Maisie speaks again. Her voice sounds choked.

‘I didn’t want to go to the party, but Dad said I had to.’

‘He did?’ I’m shocked.

‘He said I should go because I’d enjoy it, but I didn’t want to go because although it was a girl from the dance school, she hadn’t invited me. Only Piper.’

‘That’s probably because she goes to Piper’s school,’ I suggest. ‘It doesn’t sound as if she minded you tagging along.’

‘I don’t think she wanted me to go, but Joanne called her mum and said they were stuck with me for the day and could she bring me along.’

I swallow. ‘I’m sure she didn’t say she was stuck with you.’

Maisie stays quiet and I feel like I’ve just discounted her opinion.

‘At least you must have known some of the other girls from dancing.’

She nodded. ‘There were a few people there from ballet, and Miss Diane came to watch them do a dance they’d practised.’ Maisie hesitated. ‘I think the other girls hate me because I got lead role in the Christmas show.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true. They’re envious, maybe, but hate is a strong word. Getting the part is something to be proud of and celebrate, and we’re not going to let anyone spoil that for you.’ She stares stonily at the floor. ‘Your dad said you were able to borrow one of Piper’s swimming costumes for the party.’

Her pale cheeks flush and she takes a tiny sip of water.

‘Did you feel comfortable wearing it?’

‘It was too tight,’ she says.

‘Good job you only had to suffer it for a couple of hours then.’ I grin.

Maisie doesn’t smile. ‘I looked fat.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ I huff. ‘I’m sure you looked perfectly lovely.’

‘I looked FAT.’ She glares at me. ‘They said I did.’

‘Who did?’ I feel suddenly sick, realising how awful it must have been for her.

‘All of them. They made up a song about it and kept singing it when the mums went up to the café.’

‘Even Piper?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ she says, and with that she stands up and walks out of the kitchen and upstairs. I hear her bedroom door open and then close with a dull thud.

It’s obvious that Piper is a slight child with a much smaller frame than Maisie, who is in no way fat but who has quite wide shoulders and is longer in the body.

Surely Joanne would have the sense to select a suitable swimsuit for her to borrow, perhaps one that was too big for her daughter. It doesn’t take much to see the difference in the two girls and understand that Maisie is hardly going to feel comfortable in a costume that fits Piper.

I pick up my phone and call Shaun. It puts me straight through to voicemail.

‘Just to let you know, Maisie’s very upset. The girls were teasing her at the party, saying she looked fat. Did she tell you? They’re probably jealous about Miss Diane giving her the lead role in the Christmas show. Apparently Piper heard it all, possibly even joined in. Can you ask Joanne about it?’

I end the call, aware that my message will sound curt when he listens to it, but I won’t lose any sleep over that.

I’m angry with Shaun. He must have known Maisie was upset when she asked to come home early, but instead of getting to the bottom of what was bothering her, he just blindly agreed to bring her back and wasn’t honest about what happened at the party.

And instead of supervising the girls, it sounds like Joanne just buggered off up to the café with the other mothers for a good gossip.

I felt secure in the knowledge that Joanne understood all about ten-year-old girls and how cruel they can be. Now, I’m not so sure.

I hear a cry from upstairs and I tear up to Maisie’s bedroom.

She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, bent double over her knees and gasping in air. I know she left her bag downstairs with her inhaler in.

‘It’s OK, it’s fine. Just slow down, slow your breathing down.’ I force myself to speak calmly, and sit next to her rubbing the top of her back. ‘Breathe, that’s it. That’s good.’

I snatch up a paper bag from the floor and empty out the new hair bobbles that are in it. Then I open it up and hold it to Maisie’s face.

‘Breathe in and out, into the bag. That’s it, sweetie. Well done.’ Her breathing deepens and slows a touch. ‘Keep going. Brilliant.’

I help her to sit up straighter.

‘Wh-what’s wrong with me, Mum?’

Her eyes are wide and dark as she looks pleadingly at me. My heart feels like it’s cracking.

‘You’ve had a panic attack, I think. It’s not serious, don’t worry, poppet.’ I play it down while inside I’m burning up with concern. ‘Are you worried about something?’

I know exactly what she’s worried about, but I have to give her the chance to open up to me. Dr Yesufu said to keep communication open between us as much as possible.

She stares at me, and neither of us speaks for a moment. I feel like she’s ready to confide in me, so I wait. And then she breaks her gaze.

‘You know you can tell me anything, Maisie. Anything at all.’

I know she doesn’t like going to Joanne’s house and I know there’s been some teasing by the sounds of it. But what I’m seeing in my daughter goes beyond that. It’s as if someone is being so mean or frightening, it’s actually changing her personality.

A few weeks ago, I knew everything about my Maisie, and now… we hardly seem close at all.

‘I’m OK,’ she says, turning away from me.