I rushed into the small supermarket, not waiting for the automatic doors to open fully. Second aisle, biscuits and crackers. A swirl of colours and brands danced on the shelf. Two hundred and thirty-one, two hundred and thirty-two, two hundred and thirty-three … Black spots danced in front of my eyes. God no, don’t faint. I brought my hand up to the gash on my cheekbone. Pushed softly against it. I deserve this. The pain gave me a new focus. I snatched two packets of Tim Tams from the shelf and hurried to the front of the store.

At the checkout, the twenty-something with the blue hair—Jack or Zac or Raf, I could never remember his name—squinted at my face, handed over the change and said, ‘Have a great day.’

I can do this. I can. Three hundred and one, three hundred and two, three hundred and three.

Clomping along the footpath, my heel caught in a crack and I fell forwards momentarily. Rocking back to equilibrium, I stopped and took a slow breath. Concentrate on Black Mountain Tower in the distance. Bella thought the tower was a rocket ready to blast off into outer space.

Last steps, around the corner of the building and to the black gate. Put Dora down to open the child lock. Can’t see Bella through the bars … Three hundred and seventy-one, three hundred and seventy-two, three hundred and seventy-three … I’ve made it. I can stop counting now. Three hundred and seventy-three seconds. Six minutes.

Opening the gate into the playground I saw the twins arguing in the cubbyhouse and Sammy pushing a digger in the sandpit.

Where’s Bella?

The twins spied the doll and bolted over.

‘What’s that?’ asked the slightly taller one.

‘It’s Dora,’ Sammy called out. ‘Hola, Dora! Where’s Map? Is it in Backpack?’

The boys followed me in through the screen door, crowding around me, tugging at Dora. As each child inside the room spotted the doll, they rushed towards me. Less than an hour with the kids at playgroup and the room was strewn with puzzles and blocks and dolls and clothes. Stepping around a pile of trains, I tried to find Bella in the chaos, to see her face light up and to hear her cry: ‘Dora Splorer!’

Mel was rinsing out a cloth at the sink, Tara was rocking the pram back and forth, and Imogen was picking up some crayons from the floor.

‘Fantastic doll, Lexie!’ Julia had to shout to make herself heard above the children. ‘They all love it. Where did you get her?’

I searched for Bella’s dark hair among the small bodies thronging around me, taking note of each child to see if I’d skipped her somehow—Sammy, Matthew and Thomas, Morgan and Zoe. Baby Daisy in the pram.

‘Where’s Bella?’