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It had been close. The bottle had been inches from his lips when she grabbed it. She wondered what would have happened if he’d drunk the bleach? Vomiting, almost certainly. Fever? A prolonged sickness? Death?

Had she nearly killed him?

But he hadn’t drunk it. It was OK.

Sweat prickled on her back and arms. What if he had drunk it when she wasn’t looking? No – it would have tasted horrible and he would have been spluttering as he tried to spit it out. He wouldn’t have been trying to drink more.

She couldn’t be sure of that, though.

‘Max,’ she said. ‘Did you drink any of the stuff in the bottle?’

He didn’t answer. He turned away from her. It was the first time she had ever been mean to him.

‘You’re not in trouble. Mummy needs to know. That’s all.’

He stiffened. He turned his head so his face was totally hidden.

‘Max, please. Tell me if you drank it.’

Did the fact he wasn’t answering mean he had? Was he feeling guilty and didn’t want to admit it? Shit, shit, shit. What had she done? Her son was in the safest place possible – she would have preferred him to be exposed to all the dangers of the outside world, of course she would, but the fact was the room was safe – and still she had been so fucking negligent that he had been hurt by the one danger there was.

She prised him away from her and looked at him. He turned away again.

‘Max. Look at me. I need to know if you drank anything. That stuff is bad for you.’

He blinked, tears in his eyes.

‘No, Mummy,’ he said. ‘I didn’t.’

Of course, if he had done it, he would say that because he didn’t want to get into trouble. On top of leaving the bleach cap off, she had created a stressful situation which meant she couldn’t rely on what Max told her.

She took a deep breath.

‘Are you sure? It’s OK if you did. I’m not upset. I just need to know.’

‘I didn’t, Mummy.’

She stared at him. He looked serious. Honest. And he wasn’t showing any signs of having drunk bleach. Even though it was early, she thought that some of the symptoms might start quickly – stomach pains, for example.

She smelled his breath. It was sweet, exactly like she expected. She opened the bleach and smelled it. It was harsh and unpleasant, nothing like his breath.

Still, she had to assume he had drunk it. She picked up the bottle and read the label.

There was a warning symbol. A skull. She felt faint.

DANGER! POISON! CORROSIVE!

She read the label. There were instructions about what to do if it got in your eyes or on your skin. And what to do if your toddler drank it.

If swallowed, seek medical help immediately. Present this label.

That was it. No suggestions of what to do.

Only the instruction: seek medical help.

Which was impossible for her. She looked at Max. He seemed OK.

But all she could do – as always – was wait.