I let myself back in, my feet aching and my chest hitching as the dash from school to home catches up with me. The house is quiet as I make my way towards the kitchen, and I feel Laurel’s absence acutely. No sound of her singing floating down the stairs from her bedroom, no tangle of shoes to be hurriedly tidied away before Fran gets home, no demands for snacks before tea.

As I reach the patio doors to the garden, I see Kelly is outside in the wintry sunshine, somewhat futilely hanging out washing that won’t dry in these temperatures. Seeing as the cleaner hasn’t been back since Laurel went missing (I’m unsure if Fran told her not to come, or whether she is avoiding us, in case it’s catching), Kelly seems to have absorbed all of the chores that the cleaner used to do. Maybe it’s a bid to make herself seem less like a police officer, and more like a friend of the family. I’m guessing then, that no one has been told yet. I walk along the hallway back towards the stairs, intending to head up and see if Fran is in her room, when I see that the door to Dominic’s study is half open. A noise stops me in my tracks, as I realise someone is in there, and then Fran’s voice floats out to me.

‘. . . no, it’s OK. I’m OK. I promise.’ There is a noise that sounds like drawers being pulled open. ‘Just stay there. I don’t want you to come, all right?’

I hold my breath as Fran’s voice rises and there is the thunk of another drawer slamming closed. I know I should move away, but I can’t.