He’d driven around the streets of Merrigang, thinking about Bella’s water bottle and the ‘shrine’ to Archie. Ended up outside the playgroup, sitting in the dark, remembering how excited Victoria had been during Lexie’s first pregnancy. She’d made a list of all the things she would do with her baby brother or sister: go to the zoo, the cinema, the beach, the lolly shop. He’d warned her that the baby couldn’t eat lollies or build a sandcastle straight away.

Around Victoria’s mother, Marty had felt awkward. When they’d been young and in love, Angela wanted four children, a large hurly-burly family. But his ex-wife hadn’t remarried—did she feel he’d taken the possibility of a big family away from her?

Victoria had been desperate to name the baby: Rihanna, Miley or Taylor for a girl, Ronaldo, Fernando or Lionel for a boy. Marty explained that Ronaldo was actually the soccer player’s surname but she preferred it to Cristiano—easier to spell. If they chose Lionel, she was keen for his nickname to be ‘Lion’, as they’d just read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in her class.

At that point, with a smiling pregnant wife and a happy daughter, Marty could never have imagined the years ahead—and this moment right now. His son dead and his daughter missing.

Marty briefly closed his eyes. He didn’t need this as well: Elissa playing games, pretending to be a stranger in his lounge room. Forcing himself to look at her, Marty provided a vague answer to her question.

‘They’re still searching.’

He couldn’t think straight here with the two of them. For the past five months, he’d sat with Elissa over lunch, telling her about his daughter, his wife—confiding in her. And every Thursday morning, she’d been having coffee and chatting with Lexie while their children played together.

‘I have to go and …’ Marty muttered, and walked out of the room.

In the hallway, Marty leant his back against the cool wall. Through the open door, the female voices drifted out to him. ‘Haven’t you met Marty before?’ Lexie was asking. ‘Not even in the last few days?’

‘We must have been on different schedules,’ Mel said. ‘I was here cooking while you two were out searching.’

Cooking? So she was the one who’d made all the meals.

What had he told her about Lexie and Bella? He hadn’t discussed his wife’s paranoia and her drinking. But there were other things that Lexie wouldn’t have wanted shared with a playgroup mum—her fears about fitting in, about being a good mother. He’d described her postnatal depression with Bella, although really it had been grief. Victoria’s antics. Stories of his ex-wife. Life in Manchester.

I shouldn’t feel so bad; it’s not like I had an affair, for Christ’s sake.