‘People want to help you,’ she said. ‘Make it easier for them. Let them know how much you love Bella.’

Following Imogen’s advice, I had written down what I planned to say. The piece of paper quivered in my hands. Bella loves fairies and her favourite colour is purple. She loves to explore. She wants to be Dora the Explorer and discover the world. Maybe she’s exploring right now, in someone’s backyard or their garage or cubbyhouse. Please check your backyards and help us find our little explorer. We need to get Bella home as soon as we can. We love you, Bella.

My legs trembling, holding on to Marty for support, I walked towards the media pack. Twenty journalists or so with TV cameras and radio microphones, big zoom lenses and tiny phones to record our voices. As we approached them, they turned towards us with blank faces, sympathetic but expectant. They’d already filmed the fence of playgroup where people had placed flowers and teddy bears, balloons and dolls. An explosion of colour. In one moment, I was grateful for this community expression of concern, and in the next, horrified. They think she’s dead.

Superintendent Milson was speaking, telling them where and when Bella was last seen. He touched my elbow and motioned that it was my turn to talk. But when the cameras focused on Marty and me, my mouth went dry. Swallowing, trying to make my tongue work, I opened my lips but the words froze.

In that moment, I realised the world was watching.

The only face I could see beyond the cameras was Imogen’s. She nodded encouragingly and gave a waving motion telling me to speak. I looked down at the piece of paper. It fluttered in my hands: a squiggle of letters that made no sense.

‘Please … help …’ I stuttered. ‘Help find Bella.’

Next to me, Marty stood stiffly. I waited but he said nothing.

After the media conference, Imogen took me home. For once I didn’t mind leaving, getting away from the cameras, from people watching me, lowering their voices around me, from Sergeant Caruso asking questions that I didn’t want to answer.

The house was so quiet and still without Bella’s constant chattering and giggling and dancing pirouettes. Why couldn’t I hear the Wiggles singing on TV or the cute giggles of Peppa Pig or even the annoying Bananas in Pyjamas? I really wanted a glass of wine. Or a bottle. Any amount that would numb my heart. I sat down at the kitchen bench, and Imogen made me a cup of tea.