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‘You can’t save all the children, Gwen. I know you and Paddy wanted to have a family of your own . . .’

My eyes snap open, and I glare at him.

‘No, I can’t help them all. But I can help Will!’ And that’s what I thought I was doing. But am I?

‘Well, if you want to help him –’ and Gareth guffaws, actually laughs – ‘get rid of that spice tin, for starters!’

‘No!’ I snap back. ‘Why?’

‘He can’t turn up at school clutching it like some kind of comfort blanket, can he?!’

‘That is exactly what it is to him!’ I shout, slapping my hand on the table. ‘It’s comfort! It’s where he was happy!’

I shake my head, turn and lean against the sink; and then things in my head finally settle into place. Slowly, in a calmer voice, I say, ‘This was a bad idea, Gareth.’

I’m looking out on the yard, where Scarlett is pointing towards the trees and making cutting motions with her hands. The fat robin I keep seeing, with the most fiery red breast, flies up to the window and away again, perching on a fence post near the forest.

‘What?’ he asks. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘All of this. It doesn’t feel right,’ I say, watching the robin.

‘But you said so yourself, it’s the perfect solution, for the time being. And you can’t look after a child at . . .’

‘At what? My age? I’m only fifty-two, Gareth. You may have taken early retirement, but I’m only just getting started again in life. You’re lonely, Gareth. Bored. You’re not looking out for me, you’re filling your days. I don’t need looking out for, anyway. I have plenty going on in my life.’

‘Looking after someone else’s child?’ he practically scoffs.

I pause before answering, drawing a slow breath. Then I say as calmly as I can, ‘Will is in my care, Gareth, and he’s vulnerable. He’s been through so much. And you are not helping. Far from it, in fact,’ I say, as another wave of realization washes over me. What was I thinking? Why did I think moving into Gareth’s big, empty, executive house would help things?

‘It’s just an old tin. He can’t go to school clutching that, can he?! He’ll be a laughing stock. You have to go in leading from the front!’

‘Gareth, he’s nine! And he’s just lost all the family he has ever known!’

‘All the more reason to get a bit of routine in his life. Get him a decent haircut. Get some proper education.’

‘He needs time, affection, love.’

‘You needed to explain what was happening! That once you come and stay with me, he can ditch the tin and he’ll be starting school in January!’

The robin hasn’t moved from the fence post despite the close proximity of Scarlett and Mogs the videographer.

I spin round to face Gareth, anger rising again.

‘You had no right to tell him any of that!’ I spit out the words. ‘You have no rights in any of this.’

‘Why not?’ He shrugs. ‘I mean, we’ll be living together. We’ll be a family. You and me.’

There is now a fire raging in my stomach, and I’m not sure how I’m going to put it out.

‘Because I’m his carer, not you.’ I’m surprised by the firmness in my own voice. ‘And you are not Paddy!’ I add.

Gareth stands up. At last he’s raising his voice, too. ‘He’ll be living under my roof! School will straighten him out. Get him to be like the other kids. I saw it with my own boys. Need to toughen them up and wean them away from home life.’

The sons he never sees, I think. Who have their own lives that don’t include Gareth. An annual meet-up before Christmas, maybe, where they exchange cards and accept a financial gift from him; possibly as early as October! But they never invite him to share the day with them. They send the occasional photograph in an email, but there’s no real connection between them at all. No desire to be together, spend time together or Christmases at each other’s houses. It’s why he spends so long on the golf course, because other than me, there’s no one else in his life – because he made it that way, I realize. Encouraged them to toughen up and weaned them away from home life. Why? Why not enjoy being with the ones you love?

Is that what I want for Will – to go into another temporary home until a permanent home is found for him? I’ve got it all wrong! My home may be scruffy and tired and a little chaotic, but its arms are wide open. It was once a house filled with laughter and fun. I wish it could be again.

I think back once more to the young boy crying behind the coats in the school cloakroom, pushing his glasses up his nose, trying to hide his tears, dragging his PE kit behind him.