Helen glanced across at the framed photo on the desk of her and Sean on their wedding day, barefoot on a beach in the Seychelles, a warm sea-breeze whipping her hair across her tanned face, Sean smiling down at a ten-year-old Alice who stood between them, clutching a posy of pink roses. It had been a perfect wedding, just the three of them plus a couple of witnesses plucked from by the pool at their hotel, the sun setting behind them as they said their vows to the grinning Indian minister. Helen remembered the feel of the cool damp sand between her toes as she promised to love Sean forever.

Sean put his hand on top of hers, and she was shocked to see tears flood into his eyes. He never cried.

She snatched her hand away and jumped up, shocked. ‘You don’t think they’ll find her alive, do you?’

He bit his knuckle like a little boy would, and she stared at him, this man she adored but who was a closed book to her, as his shoulders heaved. ‘Oh darling, come here,’ she said, tenderly taking him into her arms even though she wanted to punch him for doubting that they would get Frankie back again . . . ‘It’s OK, they will find her,’ she soothed, as much for her own benefit as his. ‘They will, they have to . . .’

They stood like that for five minutes or more, arms wrapped around each other, Sean’s breath hot on her neck and his tears wetting her skin. ‘Don’t push me away, Sean,’ she begged softly into his ear. ‘We can get through this together. I need you. Mum’s dead, and I can’t talk to Dad. You’re all I’ve got.’

‘I need you too,’ he muttered back. Then he extricated himself from her embrace and scrubbed at his face. ‘Right, better get dressed. What are we going to do with the old dear? I can’t send her back to Braintree on the next train ‒ she’d probably try and sell a story to the tabloids saying we’ve buried Frankie in the back garden—’

‘Sean! How can you even make a joke out of it?’ Helen’s lip trembled, although she knew he had only made the flippant comment because he was mortified about her seeing him cry. Men, she thought. Why are they so pathetic?

He tutted, but had the grace to apologise. ‘You know what I mean. We’ll let her stay for a couple of days but no more. Are you OK with that?’

Helen sighed. ‘I suppose so. It’s more than she bloody deserves, though. Why couldn’t she be a proper granny to Frankie when she was here?’