Shaun arrives at three o’clock. Far later than we agreed.

I walk to the door, thinking how I’ve used the extra time wisely while waiting for him to arrive, making an effort to chat to Maisie about the Christmas show and how proud I am of her.

‘It’s important you don’t miss any classes now, so you’re the best you can be in your role,’ I explained. ‘Miss Diane believes in you and so do I. When you show the other girls how brilliant you are, they’re all going to realise how silly they’ve been.’

‘I don’t feel well enough to go to today’s class,’ she said quickly.

‘That’s fine.’ I didn’t want to push her too hard and besides, I was hoping Shaun might stay for a good few hours.

She brightened a little then and she did show some interest when I suggested we could perhaps get away in the new year to the coast for a few days. Just her and me, wrapped up warm and holed away in a tiny cottage somewhere.

‘I’d like that, Mum.’ She smiled, hugging her knees to her. ‘Somewhere far away from here.’

She ate half a slice of toast in front of me and took a few sips of orange juice. That definitely counted as progress and I can’t help drawing parallels with her improvement and the fact I’ve told her she won’t be going to Joanne’s for a while.

Shaun looks a bit bashful when I open the door, but I smile and ask him if he’d like a cup of tea before I go out to do the food shopping.

‘Oh! Thanks, yes. That’ll be nice.’

He seems taken aback by my pleasant manner, as if he expected a dressing down for being late. Perhaps I’ve been more difficult with him than I’d imagined.

‘Alright, tiger?’ He walks over to the seating area, where Maisie is lying watching television.

‘Hi, Dad.’ She turns her face for a kiss and he ruffles her hair.

‘Lazy bones, still in your comfies,’ he teases her, pulling at her pyjama top. I see his face drop when he takes in how baggy it’s getting on her diminishing frame.

Within minutes, they’re joking and chatting about TV programmes. This is what they’ve needed; time together to bond again.

I make Shaun’s tea and then I grab my handbag and shrug on my quilted jacket. There’s plenty of time for us to chat when I get back and I want to get something nice for tea in the hope he might join us and stay a while longer.

‘I’m off to Sainsbury’s, I’ll be a couple of hours at the most,’ I say, kissing Maisie goodbye. ‘You two have fun.’

They barely notice I’m leaving, they’re chatting so much.

I head for the car, happier than I’ve felt for weeks. I want my daughter back and nobody is going to stop me doing what I need to do to make that happen.

I get to the supermarket, remember to take the canvas shopping bags out of the boot for once, and open the shopping list app on my phone. The shop is pleasant at this time of day; no rushed lunchtime shoppers or manic after-work visits from people like me. I even start to fantasise what it might be like to sell the house and be able to get a part-time position in a smaller practice so I can be there for Maisie more.

The thought itself seems to spring from nowhere and it surprises me.

My whole life, I’ve never considered anything less than forging ahead with a steely determination to prove my dead father wrong. For the first time ever, that approach feels like a cage rather than a motivation. Promotion is not the only gauge of success in this life.

The realisation brings a lightness to my step, melts the heaviness in my chest.

Another job I did this morning was make a list of ingredients for Maisie’s favourite meals. If I keep her away from negative people and make delicious food, I reckon she should be on the road to recovery in no time at all.

I’m planning to make a family favourite for tea; good old bangers and mash. Inside the shop, I follow my list, gathering together quality ingredients and basics needed for my badly depleted larder and fridge.

I’m about to pass the wines and spirits section when I impulsively grab a couple of bottles of the red that’s on offer on the aisle-end display. Maybe, just maybe, Shaun will appreciate a glass later when we hopefully have a heart-to-heart talk about our daughter and he can see I’ve changed my curt approach.

If we can both relax a little and really talk honestly, he might begin to wonder if I’ve got it so wrong about Joanne after all.

I pop the wine in the trolley and when I look up, Sandeep’s mum is rushing around the corner like a woman on a mission, clutching an already overfilled wire basket. Her eyes widen when she sees me and for an awful moment I think she’s going to ignore me, but I smile and stop walking.

‘Seems like forever since I saw you,’ I say, my voice upbeat. ‘I said to Maisie just the other day, Sandeep really ought to come over for a sleepover soon.’

‘That’s kind, but…’ She transfers her weight from one foot to the other. ‘Well, we’ve all got such busy lives, haven’t we? In fact, I’m hurrying now because—’

‘Maisie’s been in a bit of a bad place, you see,’ I cut over her excuse. ‘I think she needs to reconnect with her friends and Sandeep was one of her best friends.’

‘Yes. I do know that.’ She’s dropped the fake manners now and she plonks the heavy basket down on the floor. ‘Sandeep has been very upset, too.’

‘Why’s that?’ I’m wondering if it’s all a big misunderstanding and the girls just need us mums to gently encourage them to reconnect again.

‘The notes Maisie wrote?’ She’s staring me out now, eyes popping. ‘Sandeep’s ballet slipper flushed down the loo?’

‘What? I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sarita.’

‘Oh come on, I’m sure you do, but I don’t blame you for being embarrassed. Everyone understands Maisie has been affected by her dad leaving and—’

‘Now just a minute.’ I push the trolley to one side and step closer to her. ‘I don’t like the sound of this casual gossip about my daughter. You mentioned notes?’

Sarita began to speak mechanically, as if she was going through the motions because I’d asked, but that she was under no illusions I knew all about what had happened.

‘Sandeep had a note pushed into her dance bag. It was from Maisie, telling her she was a little bitch and she didn’t want to be her friend any more.’

‘Just stop right there! Maisie would never—’

‘Maisie signed the bloody thing!’

Her fury matches my own. We stand aside as a sales assistant saunters by looking concerned at our clenched fists and aggressive stances.

I shake my head. It doesn’t make any sense.

But Sarita’s in full flow now.

‘Zoe invited everyone to her birthday party, including Maisie. Surprise, surprise, Zoe got a note too, telling her in no uncertain terms to eff off, quote: “I would rather die than go to your crappy little farm visit.” Again, she had the audacity to sign it.’

‘This is crazy,’ I whisper to myself. I grasp the trolley handle for support as I feel suddenly queasy.

‘And Sandeep caught Maisie red-handed, flushing her missing ballet slipper down the loo, tears streaming down her face while she did it! She’s obviously disturbed.’

My skin feels like it’s being grilled. The heat inside me is building.

‘So now perhaps you understand why the girls are staying clear of Maisie, Emma.’ She picks up her wire basket and pushes her shoulders back. ‘Now. If you’ll excuse me… I have somewhere I need to be.’