I woke abruptly to the sound of the alarm. I must have been straight out the moment my head hit the pillow because I felt groggy from a deep sleep. The flat was silent which was great news because it meant Joni had been down for a full two hours, meaning she had hopefully slept off whatever had kept her awake in the night and would be in a good place for Jason’s visit. I got up and ran a brush through my hair and changed my top, thinking I’d put on a bit of make-up and make myself a strong coffee before waking her. I was feeling nervous about seeing Jason.

When I entered the nursery, which was only tiny, I knew immediately that something was very wrong. It was the total silence at first and then my eyes confirmed the worst. Joni was not in her cot.

I struggled to breathe and a bitter chill rippled through my whole body, turning my face ashen, my heartbeat fast.

Her Grobag was still there, but it was unzipped. I ran to the side of the cot, lifted it up and shook the material, although it was plain that she wasn’t in there. It still felt slightly warm.

My chest felt tight, my stomach knotted, as I jolted into action, dashing from room to room calling her name ‘Joni! Joni!’ I knew it was futile because she was barely five months old – she could only just roll, there was no way she was capable of climbing out of her own cot. I returned to my bedroom, to double check I hadn’t absent-mindedly brought her into bed with me. I dramatically flung back the duvet and threw the pillows off the bed, I even stooped down to the floor and looked underneath the bed, but she was not there. The flat felt disturbingly empty and cold.

Where the hell was she?

I noticed my heart was drumming fast, my chest tightening further with every beat as I ran back into the nursery. Senseless with panic, I pressed on the window but it was securely locked. I kicked open the door to the bathroom, peered around it and even looked in the bath and shower cubicle. Then I raced downstairs to the front door. It was closed, with no sign of a forced entry, and I opened it and looked out into the street. Her pram was still there at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Joni!’ I called out, but the street was empty save for one old man, who slowly turned and gave me a puzzled look.

My mind ticked over desperately. My thoughts felt muddled by the painful, thick thump, thump, thump, of my heart in my chest. I felt frantic. Then it hit me. Who could be so evil as to take my baby?

I ran back into the bedroom where my phone was still on the bedside table. My hands shaking, my finger hovered over calling 999, but instead I called Lucy.