‘There are fifty men and women searching the grounds. Once they’ve finished they will start over again, in case she’s returned meantime. If she’s here, we will find her.’ Brenda puts her hand on Eve’s; her nails are painted a translucent pink as if painting your nails was something that mattered. ‘We need your help to build a timeline so we can work out what might have happened to her.’

So Sorrel has shifted from being lost to something worse, a victim that something has happened to: an accident in the woods or on the railway line; Eve’s thoughts plunge deeper, getting darker. An assault, an abduction, a murder, that kind of happened? Why doesn’t Brenda talk about that? Doesn’t she know all the possibilities are already playing in her mind, twisting and tangling in a knot that’s getting bigger all the time?

‘Was Sorrel a happy little girl before your son’s tragic accident? I suppose we are wondering if there was any reason at all for her to run away.’

‘Happy.’ It takes Eve a second to process the word. ‘Yes. Of course she was.’

‘Is she being bullied at school?’

‘Everyone loves her, her family, her friends, the teachers. Everyone.’

Brenda looks up. ‘Children can sometimes run away if their parents quarrel; were you two okay?’

‘Fine.’ They never argue in front of the children; they hardly speak.

‘A happy marriage then?’

‘Yes.’ It was happy, for years, happy enough.

‘And what about you?’ The voice becomes warmer, more sympathetic. ‘Looking after kids can be stressful—’

‘No; it’s losing them that’s stressful, more stressful than you could possibly imagine—’ Eve stands up. ‘Sorry, I have to go.’