When I see Amy, I have to blink and refocus before I believe my eyes. But she’s there, walking along the row of shops opposite. She’s alone, and I think about shouting out, but something stops me. If I want to know what she’s hiding, I need to see her when she doesn’t think she’s being watched.

“I’m going to look around on my own for a bit,” I tell Mum.

“Of course. Text me when you’re done.”

I nod and walk in the same direction as Amy, careful not to go too fast or look too frantic. There are a few people in front of me, and I dodge left and right to keep sight of her.

She’s looking for something, too, and I wonder if her parents are here. I glance back, convinced for half a second that they’re following me as I follow her. But I only see strangers.

Amy goes into a few shops, and I keep my distance because it’s not the clothes she’s looking at, it’s the people. It’s hard to track her while her head shoots back and forth, scanning the center.

“What are you looking for?” I whisper to myself.

Suddenly she turns and walks straight for me, and I duck into the nearest shop. When I look out, she’s already gone, walking faster than before, and I have to jog to catch up.

She’s ten paces in front of me when she walks into a shop and only five when she stops and stares at a woman a few meters away. The woman has an armful of clothes, and, when her phone rings, she rests them on a rail to answer it.

Amy steps forward slowly, like she’s hunting her, and that’s when I see him. It’s not the woman Amy is staring at. It’s the boy. He looks about three and is wandering farther and farther away from a mother that doesn’t notice. Amy crouches next to him and says something, and the boy nods. When she holds his hand, I assume she’s taking him back to the woman. But they walk right past her. I open my mouth to shout, but nothing comes out. I can only stare as Amy and the boy leave the shop.

I don’t follow right away. I’m too shocked to move. When I do, it takes me a few seconds to spot Amy hurrying through the crowd.

I should tell the woman. But I can’t until I know what’s going on. Maybe they know each other. Perhaps this is all a big misunderstanding.

Amy turns right, and I see her and the boy go into the women’s bathroom. A security guard walks past, but I hold my tongue. I feel sick and anxious, and I have no idea what’s happening.