Unlike me, Tara had no issue leaving her kids with other people. Even the baby. As soon as Daisy was fed and settled at playgroup, Tara would disappear to the shops.

I picked up Dora from the lounge chair and held her against my body. The doll was almost the same height as Bella. But it was my little Tinker Bell I needed. Bella’s head against my collarbone, the faint smell of shampoo in her hair, her arms wrapped around my waist, her soft breath on my neck.

Collapsing into the lounge chair, I kept hold of the doll. Tara rushed over from the kitchenette and perched on the edge of the kids’ table in front of me.

‘This is fucking terrible,’ she said, leaning forward and patting my knee. ‘Where can she be? I’ve posted a message on Facebook. Everyone’s sharing it.’

Near the door into the playgroup, Marty was talking to a man in a suit, not a uniform.

‘Someone must have seen her,’ Tara kept on. ‘She can’t have gone too far, can she?’

Go away, Tara, stop speaking. Find my child.

Right at my eye level were Tara’s breasts. She had wet patches around the nipples.

‘You need to feed Daisy,’ I blurted out.

‘Oh shit, I do too.’ Tara flapped her green shirt, as though trying to dry it out. ‘Not a good look, hey?’

Watching Tara unhook her bra and cradle Daisy to her breast, the tears slid down my cheeks. I had no memory of breastfeeding Bella. There were photos of her on my chest but I couldn’t recall the feeling of her warm body against mine, the insistent tug of her suckling. So much was a blank.

Detective Sergeant Gabe Caruso, the man in the suit, ushered Marty and me away from the mothers to an empty spot near the dressing-up box. Resisting the urge to stomp the fairy wings into the carpet, I clutched at his large hands.

‘Please find my daughter.’

‘We’re doing our very best, Mrs Parker.’ A strong, gravelly voice. A face lined with experience. ‘Our officers are out there doorknocking and checking the streets. In the meantime, the SES are mobilising their volunteers. They’ll be here in the next hour to assist with the search if we need them.’

The detective was around Marty’s age but he seemed more solid, more substantial. A professional who would deliver our child back to us.

‘Where are they looking?’ Marty asked.

‘They’re doing a systematic doorknock, street by street, and they will—’

‘Lexie and I have already checked most of the streets nearby,’ Marty interrupted. ‘I can mark them on the map for you.’

‘Thanks but that’s okay.’ Sergeant Caruso tapped his radio. ‘They’ll take a systematic approach and talk to every house.’

‘NO!’ I shouted. ‘We’ve been down those streets. Please don’t waste time.’

‘I understand, Mrs Parker. But our officers are trained.’