‘Anna, you’re back.’ Fran grasps me by the arm and pulls me into the living room, where Dominic sits, his face grey and exhausted, next to Kelly on the sofa. DS Wright stands in front of the window. ‘DS Wright wants to speak to us . . . no, no, don’t look like that! It’s not Laurel.’ Her voice cracks on Laurel’s name. I follow her into the room, standing in the corner on shaky legs.

‘OK,’ Wright looks from Fran to Dominic, her eyes kind despite her tough exterior, ‘we want to do a brief statement from you to the press.’ Dominic goes to speak, but Fran presses the back of his hand, her fingers leaving a white mark. ‘First, something from me to update them on where we are with the investigation – as you know, the reconstruction did throw up some new leads, so we’d like to appeal to the public to come forward if they have anything else to add to this new information, and then a brief sentence from the two of you, appealing to whoever has taken Laurel. I know this is very hard on you both, but it’s something we need to do. If we can appeal to him or her, make them appear human, then there’s every chance that we will get some response to that.’

It sounds like a load of rubbish to me – whoever has taken Laurel, whoever could steal a child away from their family has to be somewhat inhuman, don’t they? I say nothing, just wait as Fran and Dominic obey orders and get to their feet, ready to step outside and face the press on their own territory this time.

As they step out on to the doorstep, my heart stutters in my chest and I feel my palms grow damp and clammy. The flashes from the cameras almost blind me, and I pull back into the living room, anxious not to be caught on film. It’s been hard enough keeping out of sight of the press as it is, there is no way I want to appear on the front page of tomorrow’s newspapers. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I peer through the living room blinds as DS Wright stands on the step, making her speech. Then, she steps aside, letting Fran and Dominic take centre stage as she steps around the press pack, taking up a position slightly behind and to the left of the them, her eyes trained on the Jessops as they stand there, Kelly beside them.

‘Whoever has Laurel,’ Fran starts haltingly, a small nervous smile on her face, ‘whoever has our daughter, please bring her home. She belongs with me, with us.’ She takes a deep breath, but seems unable to carry on, holding a tissue to her face as her shoulders begin to heave. Dominic takes over.