But inside the playgroup were only mothers and police, Daisy in the pram. No other children. No Bella. Never once had she wandered off before. Even at home, I always knew where she was. What if she’s alone in the bush? Spiders, bees, feral cats, sticks, stones, ditches, broken glass, discarded syringes … What if she has fallen into a dam? What if she is being mauled by an animal? What if? What if? What if?

The playgroup mums clustered in the kitchenette, cups of tea in their hands. Mel wasn’t here—was she the only one still out searching? Blood rushed to my head. How dare they stand here and drink tea, these women who had lost my child! They should be out combing the streets.

Imogen rushed towards me, her cheeks blotchy, eyes wet. She threw her arms around me.

‘I’m so sorry, Lexie.’

My whole body froze. Had something happened? Forcing myself to turn my head, I looked around the room, heard a buzz of police conversations.

As I stayed silent, Imogen pulled me tighter and kept talking.

‘I don’t know how she disappeared, Lexie. I don’t understand. She was right here. It’s all our fault.’

I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath. It all came now, in one long moan. There was no news. Nothing had changed.

‘I’m sure the police will find her soon,’ Julia said softly. ‘Any moment now.’

A second ago, I’d wanted to blame them—Imogen, Mel, Tara and Julia. But no, it was my fault. I should have been watching Bella. If I’d been here, this wouldn’t have happened.

I’d never left Bella before. Never.

No, I reminded myself, that wasn’t quite true. I’d set myself the test to walk to the shops from playgroup. And a few weeks ago—the playgroup dinner: I’d left her then. Marty had kept his promise and for once he’d come home from the hospital in time to put Bella in the bath. Her giggles had become louder and louder as he poured almost the whole bottle into the bath, then stirred up the water to create huge bubbles. Later, when Bella was tucked up in bed, I kissed her goodnight, holding her little body against mine. Should I stay home with her? But I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and forced myself to walk out of her room. She’ll be fine, she’ll be fine, she’ll be fine—I had repeated the words in time with each step down the staircase. I’m getting better, I’m getting better, I’m getting better.

The old tube of mascara was gloopy and smudged against my eyelid. Damn. Wiping it off, I tried again. It had been so long since I’d worn make-up. I had to hurry up though, as Tara would be arriving any minute.