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sore and throbbing, and I had a big lump of sadness in my tummy. Today, of all days, I had to wake up feeling like a limp dishcloth. It was Josh’s first day at school. I wanted to enjoy it, and, most importantly, I wanted him to enjoy it. He had been counting down the days, and he didn’t need his mummy’s emotional turmoil clouding the day.
    I rolled on my side and pulled the duvet over me again. It was too early to get up, although I doubted I would go back to sleep. Summoning every happy thought, every cheerful memory I could muster, I spent the next hour reprogramming myself until I was ready to face the day. I rose at six, got dressed, and had a sweet cup of tea with two painkillers.
    By the time Josh bounded down the stairs fully dressed in his brand new school uniform, I felt almost human. My breath caught in my throat as I watched my four-year-old buzzing about the kitchen in his gray trousers and red jumper with the white collar of his polo shirt poking out untidily. Points for trying, though!
    I straightened the collar and ran my fingers through his short hair in lieu of retrieving the hated hair brush from upstairs. He looked adorable, vaguely rakish, and very cute. How had this day arrived so quickly?
    The doorbell interrupted my nostalgic mummy moment, and Josh nearly exploded with anticipation. “I bet it’s Dan, I bet it’s Dan,” he hollered and bounced to the front door like a ping pong ball. Of course it was Dan; it would have been impossible for him to forget the big day after Josh had reminded him every day of the past three weeks: Remember, remember, the fifth of September …
    Dan bore two wrapped presents and a big, brown paper bag from the local bakery. He flashed me a quick smile and mouthed, “Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine,” I replied as cheerfully as I could. And I felt fine. Weird, disorientated, but fine. “Thank you for coming.”
    Dan inclined his head as though to say, no problem , and focused his attention on Josh. “Hey, little big man. What’s that you’re wearing? You look like you’re going off to a new job somewhere.”
    “No, silly,” Josh gushed. “It’s my school uniform. I’m going to school today!”
    “Is that the honest truth?” Dan pretended to be overwhelmed.
    “It is,” Josh reiterated. “This is my uniform.”
    “It’s very smart.”
    Dan ruffled Josh’s hair and wandered off into the kitchen to arrange croissants and brioche onto plates. Josh hovered in the background, having spied the presents but being too polite to ask. I left the two of them to it and went to help Emily wake up and get dressed. No more leisurely mornings for us; from now on, we couldn’t afford to be late.
    When I brought a slightly sleepy but obediently dressed Emily into the kitchen, Josh had opened his present, and Dan was reading it to him patiently. It was a book about dinosaurs, and it evidently had gone straight to the top of my little man’s chart. Emily hurled herself at Dan and spied the remaining present on the table.
    “For me, for me!” she demanded, not yet capable of the restraint that her brother had so unexpectedly displayed earlier. Dan handed her the pink parcel with a big smile. “For my little angel,” he announced, and Emily gave him a thank-you kiss before she had even opened it.
    “Like it,” she promised, and sang to herself while she tore at the paper. “Like it, like it, like it.” Predictably, Dan scored another hit with the butterfly coloring book and glittery crayons. My spirits lifted. Maybe with Dan here, this day would be fine.
    They sank again, however, as soon as we set off on our first walk to school together, me, Josh and Emily, and Dan. Much as I hated myself for it, much as I realized how ungrateful I was being, I wished Steve was there instead of Dan. He and I had imagined this day together from the day Josh was born; we had played endless scenarios in our heads about the weather and our moods and what we would say and do and