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Tessa notices the clock too. ‘Could you hurry it up a bit?’ she shouts. ‘I told you we have a meeting.’

The serving girl looks flustered. ‘I’m going as fast as I can. Ididserve you first.’

‘Too bloody right! How many unpaid hours did you work last week?’

‘What?’ The serving girl looks alarmed.

‘Come on! Unpaid hours. How many did you do?’ Tessa demands.

The girl looks helpless. ‘Um … none? I mean, they pay me.’

‘Right. Now ask me how many unpaid hours I did.’

‘Err …’

‘Ten. And do you know why? Because the government won’t stump up enough cash to look after vulnerable children. So, all of us at the coal face, the ones who see the kids with lice and malnutrition and black eyes, we put in the extra time off our own backs. We should have our own bloody VIP queue, the service we do for this country.’

‘I could give you a free can of Coke? Since you’ve ordered two sandwiches,’ the girl says uncertainly.

Tessa snorts in derision. ‘I don’t drink that rubbish. Now if you sold wine, that would be a different story.’

We head towards the door, to murmurs and moans from others in the queue.

‘What are you all complaining about?’ Tessa shouts. ‘Doyouhave to sit in waste-of-time meetings all afternoon, then catch up on the important stuff at seven o’clock at night? Count your lucky stars and enjoy your full-hour lunchbreak.’

I steer her out of the shop before a fight breaks out.

Much as I admire Tessa’s spirited defence of our profession, I really would like to get back and eat my sandwich before the next meeting.

It’s going to be a busy afternoon. We’re providing supervised contact for the Neilson brothers after the meeting. A two-hour playdate with their violent, drug-addicted father held at the local family centre. Sometimes Leanne doesn’t bring the boys. Sometimes their dad doesn’t show up. It’s a lottery.

Be grateful, Kate. This is the job you wanted. Be grateful.

Ruth

‘Are you listening to me, Elizabeth?’ My heels scrape gravel as I follow my daughter up the path. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this meeting before?’

I arrived at Elizabeth’s home this afternoon to find her sitting on the front wall, sobbing and trembling. Inpublic.

Elizabeth had forgotten I was coming, apparently.

‘I need to know these things, Elizabeth,’ I insist. I’m following her up the country track now; she’s on her way to pick up Tom.

‘It had nothing to do with you,’ Elizabeth replies.

‘Don’t be ridiculous – I’m the boy’s grandmother. This reflects on the whole family.’

‘Is that all you care about, Mother?’ Elizabeth turns then, and a bird flaps free from the trees. ‘How things look? No, don’t answer that. You might say something truthful for once in your life.’

I take a stiff intake of breath, lips tight to quell my outrage. ‘After all I’ve done for you,’ I say. ‘A lifetime lost bringing up a sullen-faced little girl. I’ve driven two hours today. Tohelpwith my grandson. A little boy who’s turning out to be just as sullen as you were.’

Elizabeth shields her eyes from the afternoon sun. ‘You didn’t want anything to do with us while we were with Olly. Why the sudden interest?’

‘You need help, Elizabeth. The school says so too. You’re not strong enough to be a mother.’

She starts crying then. ‘You’re really going to do this?’ she says. ‘After the morning I just had?’

‘Stop it, Elizabeth,’ I say. ‘People will see you.’