Hard to have a conversation with her.
Remembering not to ask after the husband who went home to Australia almost a year ago to find them somewhere to live and a school for their youngest son.
Don’t ask how he is, maybe she hasn’t heard from him, no one knows.
Trying not to notice or look more than usual at the young son, spinning incessantly and shouting sporadically as a severely autistic boy does.
Trying to make polite conversation without mentioning how tired and drawn and exhausted she looks.
Trying not to laugh at the other two kids and their innocent curiosity “Mam, who is Daisy? Who is she Mam? Mam?!”
Trying to make polite conversation and a quick getaway.