Then Alba came running to me, she came up to my knee and she saw that I was upset.

Mama. Mama. Mama!

I’m sorry, darling, Mama’s very tired.

I picked her up and hugged her tightly. The scent of her hair, her skin, it washed over me like a balm. This was motherhood. It rose and fell, leaving you empty, half empty and then full. I kissed her nose, forehead, cheeks, her chubby, chubby hands. I told myself, it will get better. It will all get better. And together we walked into the supermarket.

I put her on the grocery cart, sitting upright facing me. She was used to it. I gave her a toy to chew on. I thought of baked salmon and asparagus for dinner, perhaps a sweet potato mash.

Yes, Alba, baby girl, salmon and sweet potato mash for dinner? You think daddy would like that? Yes, baby girl…

She smiled and said Papa, Papa… potato…

Then I remembered that we needed ground coffee and milk. And diapers, wine. Eggs, onions, garlic. Olive oil. Balsamic vinegar. Whipping cream. Lemons. Those thin biscuits that he likes. I walked towards the biscuit aisle, looking for those slim chocolate mint slivers. They were out of stock the last time. I saw them and grabbed three packets. Then I saw that they had oatcakes as well. That would go nice with cheese. So I took one packet and then realised that the grocery cart was three aisles back. I walked towards it, feeling better with each step. I would feel better after a nap, yes. We would go home and curl into bed together. The world would be a better place after more sleep.

I saw the grocery cart, I saw the things I had put in earlier. My handbag in the corner. But Alba, where was she? Could she have climbed down on her own? No, it was impossible.

I put the things into the cart and started pushing it.

Alba! Alba! Alba!

I walked up to the nearest cashier.

Have you seen my child? Little girl. Blue dress. Two years old.

No.

No.

No.

Concerned faces. The cashiers talking amongst themselves.

Have you seen a little girl in a blue dress?

Was she hiding in between aisles? I ran past row after row of canned food, noodles, flour, jams.

Alba!

Alba!

Where are you?

The security guards came.

Alba! Alba!

Madam, something wrong?

Madam, all okay?

Alba, where are you? Alba!!!

Madam, what does your child look like?

Madam, can you describe your daughter?

The announcement over the loudspeaker. All over the shopping center.

A two-year-old child is lost. She is wearing a blue and white dress. She has dark brown hair and her name is Alba. If anybody sees this child, please bring her to the information counter immediately.

Then, a crowd. Women with their own children, hugging them tightly. Men in suits. All peering at me.