‘Mainly the woods this morning, I think, and then out into the lane,’ Jess says, her cheeks pink with the cold. She’s remembered to put wellies on, at least. ‘They said the main area of the field was searched last night, but they want to search again in daylight. Police are going door-to-door through the main road to the village this morning as well, I believe. Hopefully someone saw something that might point them in the right direction.’

We reach the edge of the woods, the rough path in front of us splitting in two just a few yards into the bushes. Jess stops and points to the left. ‘I’ll go that way, you take the right-hand path. Meet back here in an hour?’

‘OK. Jess . . .’ I say, panic starting to beat in my chest as I look towards the thick overhang of trees above me. It’s winter, and the branches are bare, but they reach towards each other, tangling their limbs together leaving dark, sinister shadows across the mulchy forest floor. ‘What am I looking for?’ I blink rapidly, to fight back the tears that spring to my eyes.

‘Oh, Anna.’ Jess reaches for my hand, clasping it in her gloved palm, transferring warmth to my cold fingers. ‘Anything – anything at all that doesn’t look right. Bushes that have been flattened, any signs of . . . disturbance.’ She blinks hard. ‘The police gave us a talk when we all arrived at the hall, told us what sort of things we should be looking out for. We’ll find her, Anna, I’m positive we will.’

I give her a watery smile and wish that I shared her conviction. She steps away, on to the left-hand fork of the path and I turn to the right, keeping my eyes trained on the ground for the first few feet, anxious in case I miss something. Then I realise that some of the tree branches are shoulder or even head height to Laurel, and I might have missed something that may have caught on the bony fingers of the branches.

I retrace my steps back to the edge of the wood, a flash of colour catching my eye as I reach the outskirts. It’s Dominic’s yellow ski jacket, and he paces backwards and forwards a little way from the entrance to the woods, mobile phone clamped to his ear, his breath escaping in tiny clouds of vapour as he speaks. I slide my thin frame behind the nearest tree, straining my ears to try and hear what he’s saying. He paces the same route over and over, shoving a hand through his hair until it sticks up in short silver spikes, but it’s no good, I’m too far away to hear him.