A busy working mum takes her child into the supermarket. He’s a tall boy of seven, with dark, intelligent eyes, a puppy dog smile and a slight lisp when he speaks.

A casual observer would see the boy charging up and down aisles with the energy of a springer spaniel — keen to be involved, full of grins and noisy with it.

A closer look would show us something slightly odd. Each time the boy returns to his mother’s side, he thrusts his left hand in her face. The hand is grubby, inked with letters. The third time the hand flashes in front of her, the bemused woman reads the word he’s written there in pen:

“Sorry”