‘We’re doing everything we can to find him.’ PC Dolan’s voice is a soft blanket, wrapping her up in comforting words.

‘Will you be able to stay for a while, until the liaison officer arrives?’ he asks Sarah. She nods.

Later, when the police and the liaison officer have gone, Sarah sits the girls in front of the TV, tucked up together under a blanket with an ice lolly each. Maddy follows Sarah into the kitchen. She sits at the table and stares into space. The seconds tick by on the wall clock, louder than usual. She’s not sure she can summon the energy to do anything, but while Sarah is making tea, she picks up the phone and presses in Max’s number. The line is dead. Her stomach tumbles. How can this be?

Sarah takes two mugs from the draining board and switches the kettle on. ‘He must have taken losing Chloe so much harder than he let on.’

Maddy nods. If she speaks she’ll start crying again. The last few weeks have been hard enough, and now this.

‘Oh honey, come here.’ Sarah hugs her. ‘Did he say anything at all to make you think he’d do something like this?’

Maddy shakes her head and gently pulls away. When was the last time she and Max really talked about how they felt? Especially lately, since Chloe’s death. What was there to say? The truth is, it’s been too painful. Nothing was going to bring her back. But they used to be able to talk about anything. He confided in her when they first met, told her how his gran had brought him up in near poverty. A superstitious lady. A good sort, he called her. Read tea leaves and lived her life by the phases of the moon.

‘He’s been so excited about the new baby.’ Sarah pours boiling water into the teapot and gives it a stir.

Maddy looks down at her bump. A miracle conception in many ways considering how little they made love anymore.

‘Is there something else? You can tell me.’ Sarah sits at the breakfast bar opposite her and leans forward to pour the tea, her straight blonde fringe falling across her face. They’ve been friends since their girls were born only days apart. Sarah’s written about bereavement on her parents’ blog, emailed her all her top hints and tips on how to cope. But it’s not something that can be fixed by advice in neatly set out bullet points. Will this be the subject of her next post? How to tell your child their parent may have taken their own life.

‘It’s nothing,’ Maddy says, and the moment is gone. She presses her palm to her forehead to stop the thumping pain.

‘They found a front door key in Max’s rucksack.’ Maddy takes it out of her pocket and places it on the counter between them.