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On and on they came, the endless everyday put-downs. Another took him to a party simply so her friends could make fun of his colourful vernacular.

At least the court case gave me the beginning of my new novel, Best Laid Plans, in which a middle-aged, middle-class mum is arrested picking up a prostitute for her boy.

It is based not just on me, but on shared experiences with parents in the autistic community.

But even the temporary solace of sex might do something for his flagging confidence. On impulse, I veered off the main road into a labyrinth of dark streets.

Is soliciting a prostitute a seriously abnormal thing to do? But mothering a child with autism tends to recalibrate one’s view of normal. As women skulked towards me out of the shadows, my heart thumped against my ribcage. I was more likely to be found at a book club than on a kerb crawl.

Even though we were sitting safely at our kitchen table, he looked as though he was being buffeted by the fiercest winds.‘If you’d known I’d be autistic, would you have aborted me? ‘I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment as a son.’After he’d gone to bed, I slumped down on the couch, buried my head in the cushions and cried my eyes out. I found myself confiding to other parents of autistic children and teenagers and realised they were going through the same angst.

The one thing every parent wants is for their child to find love and companionship. Then came what I know must seem a quite astonishing suggestion.

Perhaps it’s just as well that I abandoned the kerb crawling.