Mum and I make it to the front of the crowd. Standing next to the easels is an older, thin-faced man in a black fleece and black flat cap who moves towards us and kisses Mum on the cheek. He’s wearing a Find Grace badge. Someone puts an arm around me. I turn and see Molly, my old friend from school. She’s got her baby, Zack, in a stroller and is moving it gently back and forward. She’s heavily made up as always, false eyelashes, foundation, the works. Sometimes I think Mum wishes I was more like Molly.

“Car, it’s so good to see you.” I feel her acrylic nails dig into me as she squeezes my shoulder. “How are you, after everything?”

“Ummm.” I don’t know what to say. More cameras flash. Just in time, Molly tenses with a pose, sucks her tummy in, before she turns back to me.

“Stupid question. You must feel completely fucking nuts. Look, can we go for a drink next week? You know, talk about it? I just want to make sure you’re OK.”

That’s bollocks, of course, she doesn’t want to make sure I’m OK, she wants the gory details. She wants to hear how Meg’s blood was so dark it was almost black. But I can’t blame her, I’d have been the same, wouldn’t I? Molly’s boyfriend, Paul, is one of Chris’s oldest mates, it was how Chris and I met. But Molly hasn’t returned my calls since Chris and I broke up, since I said I didn’t want to live in Cornwall for the rest of my life, have three kids by the time I was twenty-five, and stay in a job I hated. Since I said that basically I didn’t want Molly’s life.

Another camera flashes. Molly looks around to see where the photographer is, but then an older woman behind me hands me a jar with a candle lit inside and she nods towards the front lawn, where the man in the fleece is standing on a platform I didn’t notice before. He raises his hands towards the crowd, but he doesn’t need to wait for us to stop talking. We are already silent. Molly’s arm falls from my shoulder.

“Thank you all for being here. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m David Raffin, CEO of the Wishmakers. It has been decided that a funeral will not be held for Megan until Grace has been found, so myself and Susan Dorman, along with other friends and community members, decided to organize this remembrance event this evening, for a period of loving reflection on the life of Megan Nichols. We are also here to ask you—whether you have a religious faith or not—to hold both Megan and her daughter, Grace, in the light, to send them your love and strength at this most difficult of times, and to pray that Grace will be found, safe and well, very soon.” There are a few shy claps of support from the crowd before David says, “Now I’m going to hand over to Susan Dorman, Megan’s neighbor and closest friend.”