“Lovely!” Ellen says. “But what about your new puppy?”

“My what?” I stare at her blankly.

“Noah was telling us about your new puppy. The cocker spaniel?”

“Cocker spaniel?” I laugh. “I don’t know where he’s got that idea from. We don’t have a puppy, nor are we getting a puppy—” I break off. Mrs. Hocking and Ellen are exchanging looks. “What is it?”

There’s silence—then Mrs. Hocking sighs. “We did wonder. Tell me, has Noah’s grandfather died recently?”

“No.” I stare at her.

“And he didn’t have an operation on his hand during the holidays?” chimes in Ellen. “At Great Ormond Street?”

“No!” I look from face to face. “Is that what he’s been saying?”

“Please don’t worry,” says Mrs. Hocking hurriedly. “We noticed last term that Noah seemed to have … quite an imagination. He’s been coming out with all sorts of stories, some of which are obviously untrue.”

I stare at her in dismay. “What other stories?”

“It’s perfectly normal for children to live in a fantasyland at his age.” She’s deflecting me. “And, of course, he has had an unsettling time at home. He’ll grow out of it, I’m sure.”

“What other stories?” I persist.

“Well.” Again Mrs. Hocking exchanges looks with Ellen. “He said he’d had a heart transplant. Obviously we knew that wasn’t the case. He mentioned a surrogate baby sister, which again we thought probably wasn’t true.…”

A heart transplant? A surrogate baby sister? How does Noah even know about things like that?

“Right,” I say at last. “Well, I’ll have a word with him.”

“Tread lightly.” Mrs. Hocking smiles. “As I say, it’s a perfectly normal phase. He may be attention-seeking or he may not even realize he’s doing it. Either way, I’m sure he’ll grow out of it.”

“He even said you once threw all your husband’s clothes onto the street and invited the neighbors to help themselves!” says Ellen with a bright laugh. “He’s got such an imagination!”

My face flames. Damn. I thought he was asleep when I did that.

“What an imagination!” I try to sound natural. “Who on earth would do a thing like that?”

My face is still hot as I arrive at the special-educational-needs department. Noah has special after-school lessons every Wednesday, because his handwriting is terrible. (The official reason has “spatial coordination” in the title, and costs sixty pounds per session.)

There’s a waiting area outside the door, and I sit down on the miniature sofa. Opposite me is a shelf full of pencils with special grips and odd-shaped scissors and beanbags. There’s a rack of books with titles like How Do I Feel Today? On the wall, a TV is softly burbling away with some special kids’ program.

They could do with a department like this at the office, I find myself thinking. I wouldn’t mind escaping for half an hour a week to play with beanbags and point to the flash card reading Today I’m Sad Because My Boss Is a Git.

“… I had an operation at Great Ormond Street.” A voice from the TV attracts my attention. “My hand was sore afterward and I couldn’t write anymore.” I look up to see a small Asian-looking girl talking to the camera. “But Marie helped me learn to write again.” Music starts playing, and there’s a scene of the little girl struggling with a pencil while a woman guides her. The final shot is of the girl beaming proudly while holding up a picture she’s drawn. The image fades and I blink at the TV, puzzled.

Great Ormond Street. Is that coincidence?

“My mummy is having a surrogate baby.” A freckled boy appears on-screen as the music changes. “At first I felt left out. But now I’m really excited.”

What?

I grab the remote and turn up the volume as Charlie introduces his surrogate baby sister. The piece ends with them all sitting in the garden together. Next up is Romy, who has had a cochlear implant, and then Sara, whose mummy has had plastic surgery and looks different now (but that’s OK), and then David with his new heart.

The DVD doesn’t have a point to it, I swiftly appreciate. It’s a promotional freebie for other DVDs. And it’s just running on a loop. One inspirational, heart-churning story after another.

I’m almost blinking with tears as each kid tells his or her poignant tale. But I’m seething with frustration too. Did no one think to watch this DVD? Has no one linked Noah’s stories to what he’s been watching?