‘Oh, you know.’ I shrug, conscious of the rain that drips down my neck from the prongs of the umbrella. ‘No sign of Laurel yet. It’s only been four days but it feels like a long time since Saturday.’

‘Oh dear. Oh, dear me, that poor girl,’ Mr Snow sighs, his mouth turned down. ‘I watched the appeal earlier today. Her poor parents. I wish I could do more to help, but . . . I’m not as young as I was.’ He gives a half-hearted laugh, and I nod sympathetically, even though he doesn’t seem that old, not really.

‘Everyone is being more than helpful. But thank you.’

‘I remember my daughter being Laurel’s age, you know. Precious, they are, when they’re young – so inquisitive. Now she spends most of her time worrying about me.’ His eyes light up, and he fumbles in his pocket, and I worry for a moment that he’s going to pull out a photograph or something that he’ll expect me to pore over, but it’s only a hanky that he presses to his mouth. ‘These days . . .’ he coughs into the hanky and my stomach turns slightly, ‘you can never be too careful, Anna. You never know who’s out there. Never take your eyes off them for a second.’

I am drenched by the time I arrive back at the house almost three hours later, but at least I feel as though I have done something useful today, even if nothing comes of it. It’s getting dark and cold and there is a hint of bonfire smoke on the air – a smell that I think now will forever make my stomach flip over and nausea rise in my throat. As I slide my key into the lock and take off my soggy trainers in the hallway, I can feel the row in the air. Something thick and dark and close enough to touch, and although there is no sign of Fran and Dominic, it’s clear they are home and things aren’t good.

If I was asked before any of this happened if Fran and Dominic had a good relationship I don’t know how I would respond. On the surface, everything is perfect – when they do go out as a couple, everyone comments on how good they look together, how wonderful they are as parents – Jess frequently tells me how Claire says her husband Tom should be more like Dominic. They are the envy of everyone in Oxbury. They have it all – the beautiful daughter, nice house, fabulous careers, the occasional mention in the society pages.