fence to the door, with a few broken pegs swinging forlornly from it. Spiderwebs glistened in the weak autumn sun, like tiny insect trampolines, and broken pots were stashed in one corner. Growing anything here would be a challenge. It was not, as Greg had put it, a ‘sun trap’.

Maybe she could grow a few simple vegetables and herbs, although she didn’t know where to start. Greg had employed a gardener when they had moved into the house down the road. Peter, with his quiet smile and baggy, grass-stained trousers, would arrive every Thursday, let himself into the garden, weed, prune and mow, then let himself out again. Sometimes when she was lying in bed when things got really bad, she would hear the lawnmower, smell the cut grass and imagine she could hear children laughing and playing football outside. It reminded her that there was a world going on outside. Even now, the smell of cut grass made her feel inexplicably sad. Every Christmas she would leave out a hamper of homemade mince pies and shortbread for Peter with a fifty-pound note tucked into a Christmas card. She had no idea if Peter was married or had children, if he liked shortbread or loathed mince pies, but she liked to think he was pleased to receive it.

The polite ignorance of the middle classes.

The same could be said of the cleaner they had employed for years. Maddie would communicate with her by text message and leave money on the kitchen counter for her. She would let herself in once a week, so that when Maddie came home from work, the house would be immaculately tidy and smelling of citrus and bleach. Maddie knew her first name was Aneta, but knew nothing about her family or where she lived, but when everything felt like it was spiralling out of control, Aneta knew to leave the main bedroom untouched, to let Maddie sleep, not to intrude on her grief. It was never discussed though. She just knew. Maddie realised with embarrassment that she had seen her in person only a handful of times and yet this woman had cleaned up many of Maddie’s most intimate messes.

A train rumbled past in the distance and tyres squealed on the road outside. The cardigan she was wearing was doing a poor job of keeping the morning chill out. She looked around one more time, then picked up the bowl and turned to head back indoors.

Ben’s tiny face was peeking through the railings on Jade’s balcony above her. She wiggled her fingers at him and he watched her, his face serious. Maddie could hear Jade calling his name, but he didn’t move, just carried on staring at her, like an animal trapped in a cage at the zoo.

‘What are you staring at?’ Jade appeared behind him, her face impatient, then it visibly softened as she looked down and saw Maddie below, like a mask had slipped into place.

Maddie waved up at her. ‘Hi, neighbour!’

‘Hey! Getting rid of evidence?’ She smirked and Maddie blushed.

‘Yeah, something like that. Typical that it hasn’t rained when I want it to.’

‘You’re a badass, you are!’

No one had ever called her that before and she grinned. Ben was still staring down at her, his little fists clamped around the railings. Jade looked at him, then Maddie. Jade reached out and stroked his hair. ‘We’re going out to the park in a bit, maybe feed the ducks if you want to join us?’ she said.

‘I’d love to!’

‘I’ll knock when we’re ready then, maybe half an hour?’

Maddie skipped back inside and started rummaging through her cupboards for kid-friendly snacks to take with her. She pulled a tub of hummus from the fridge and started cutting carrots and cucumber into neat little batons, humming while she chopped.

With plenty of time to spare, she was ready, coat on, snack bag packed and waiting, her fingers tapping against the countertop. It was closer to forty-five minutes later when she finally heard the knock.

Maddie opened the door and immediately crouched down to say hello to Ben, who was strapped into his pushchair, the straps pulled tight so that it looked like his yellow raincoat was swallowing him whole.

‘Hi, do you remember me? I’m Maddie, but you can call me Mads if you like?’

He blinked at her and said nothing, but she noticed he was clutching the new car she had bought him and her chest puffed out.

‘Right, let’s go,’ Jade said, then noticed the bag. ‘What’s in there?’

‘Snacks, you know, in case we decide to sit for a bit.’

‘Well, I have to have him back by twelve.’

Maddie tried to disguise her disappointment. ‘Oh, why?’

Jade looked away. ‘You know, his nap and stuff…’

‘Ok, well, let’s see. You never know, he might nap in his pushchair if we’re out longer?’

‘He’s a creature of habit, our Ben. He likes his own bed and can be a right little shit if he doesn’t get enough sleep,’ she said quickly. ‘Aren’t you, Benny Boy?’ She reached down to rub his cheek.

‘Ok, no problem,’ Maddie replied, but she was disappointed. She had had the whole morning planned in her head, could imagine them feeding the ducks, having a picnic, chasing a ball around.

Jade was already heading towards the door to the street. Maddie slammed her front door behind her and rushed over to hold the outside door open for Jade.

‘Oh, and don’t be too surprised if he doesn’t say much to you. He’s not much of a talker. I’m trying to get him to use his words, but… you know… they do what they want when they want,’ Jade said.

‘What does his nursery school say?’ They were out in the noise of the street now, with cars driving past and people wandering around with cups of coffee in one hand and phones in the other.

‘Oh, you know …’ she replied vaguely. They passed a coffee shop and Jade said, ‘Fancy a coffee?’

‘Why not? I’ll get it.’

‘No, you stay here with him. Whatcha want?’

‘Americano, please

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