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We stayed another hour before travelling the short journey home. As I drove, I churned Phoebe’s reaction over in my mind. I had thought that autism affected a person’s ability to appreciate humour since sufferers generally took everything anyone said in the literal sense, but if that were the case, Phoebe would surely have been horrified by Mum’s ‘threat’ to wash her mouth out with soap?

It was yet another anomaly to puzzle over.

When we got home Emily invited Phoebe to sit at the table and do some colouring, freeing me to prepare lunch. I was amazed by my daughter’s fortitude – Phoebe had aggravated both of my children since first light so it was a credit to Emily’s levels of tolerance that she was even prepared to share the same floor space – but I asked Phoebe to go and sit at the top of the stairs for five minutes instead, as penance for winding Jamie up in the car by repeating everything he had said.

As we sat down to eat he was subdued. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as he slipped past a sullen Phoebe, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. He glanced sideways to make sure she was at a safe distance, wary of getting a wet finger rammed into his ear again.

‘I hate the way you make porridge,’ Phoebe said as she swept her bowl away, arching back in her chair. Her ribs were visible through her T-shirt. ‘I’m not going to eat it.’

Extremely jittery, I got the feeling it was an effort for her to sit at the table, like she wanted to spring up and spin around the house.

‘That’s a shame,’ I said, non-committal, determined not to be drawn into a battle.

‘That’s a shame.’

There was a pause. Nonchalantly, I took a bite of my sandwich.

‘I mean it. I’m not even going to taste it.’

‘Yes, I heard you, Phoebe. Now, let’s decide what to do tomorrow. We could go ice-skating or maybe hire some bikes and go for a ride.’

‘I’ve got to revise, Mum.’ Emily was studying for her GCSEs and so it would be good for her to have the house to herself for a whole day.

Jamie shrugged his shoulders, eyeing Phoebe. A keen sportsman, he usually jumped at the opportunity of an action-packed day out. I guessed that his reticence was probably fuelled by the idea of another disastrous car ride with our new interloper.