‘Okay,’ says Amanda, sitting on the stool opposite me. ‘Now, Maggie, I realize you’ve got loads to deal with right now, and I don’t want to add to the pressure, but we need to discuss where you stand in terms of benefits.’

Behind me I hear Sonia sip her tea.

‘The reason being,’ continues Amanda, ‘that the damned things take such a long time to come through so we need to act fast.’

I watch as she brings out a handful of leaflets from her bag. The letters DWP are stamped in red at the top of them: Department for Work and Pensions.

‘So, we’ve been addressing your situation,’ says Amanda, handing me one of the leaflets. ‘And, because of your health issues, you are entitled to what is known as Universal Credit.’

I look down at the leaflet. There’s a line drawing of a man in a wheelchair with a grimace on his face.

‘You will also qualify for Housing Benefit and, subject to a health assessment in six weeks’ time, Job Seeker’s Allowance.’

I look up at Amanda. Doesn’t she understand? None of this matters.

‘Now if we break it all down,’ she says, her voice a drawl, ‘you’ll be entitled to Housing Benefit …’

I can’t focus on what she is saying. My head is full of Elspeth. I see her terrified little face, her fists pounding on the car window. I hear her screaming for me to help, begging me to get her out.

‘Enough,’ I cry, my hands shaking so much I almost drop the tea.

Amanda stops speaking and looks up at me, startled.

‘I don’t care about the money,’ I say. ‘What I need is to find out how this happened, why my little girl was locked in that car, where my husband is. Can you please help me find him?’

Sonia grabs my cup of tea before it falls to the floor.

‘Maggie, please,’ says Amanda, putting her arms out towards me. ‘You mustn’t upset yourself. As I said, we are here to help.’

‘Here to help?’ I yell. ‘Can you help me bring my daughter back? You know she drowned, trapped in a car seat.’ I start sobbing again, unable to help myself. ‘I never had a chance to say goodbye to her. My husband, he buried her, and now they can’t find him. I can’t …’

Sonia looks down at her feet while Amanda shifts awkwardly in her seat. I’m making them uncomfortable but I don’t care.

‘So I don’t need Housing Benefit forms,’ I cry. ‘We need … we need the police. They have to do a proper search. Oh God … do you understand? I have to find him. You’ve got to … you’ve got to help me.’