The family moved to their present address in Bristol four years previously in anticipation of getting Danny a place at St Bede’s, a popular private school that consistently produced excellent academic results. Their son was a sensible boy and despite only being eleven he was allowed an increasing amount of freedom, especially since leaving primary school. He walked to and from school alone, and his parents never feared for his safety as they resided in a respectable leafy area on the outskirts of the city. Surely a boy could walk safely to and from school in such a place?

Martha had thought the saying ‘wrapping your child in cotton wool’ to be a silly phrase but that was before Danny went missing. Now, if she could only have him back she’d take so much better care of him and cherish him as he deserved. All night long Martha constantly questioned herself. Am I a bad mother? Do I somehow deserve this nightmare? Could this be punishment for what I’ve done in the past – is this the price I have to pay? But the answers were irrelevant in the circumstances and Martha knew that whatever the outcome of their present ordeal she would always berate herself for her failings as a parent.

Logic told her she was not to blame – she was only human, flesh and blood like everyone else. But she couldn’t help wondering if she’d somehow brought this on herself. The questions haunted Martha with not a single positive answer to soothe the rising panic within her. Perhaps it wasn’t the time for such soul searching, yet her mind was in overdrive. Danny was missing and she had no idea what to do.

6am marked fourteen hours since Danny was last seen. Fourteen hours during which Martha had neither slept nor eaten. Fourteen hours during which she’d cried bitterly, shouted at her husband and the police, and against all advice and common sense, run out into the night in a futile search of the streets. It was clear that none of those actions had helped even in the slightest measure. Instead, they’d only served to exhaust her and bring unnecessary concern to those who were trying to help.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Richard entered the kitchen. Martha lifted her head, noticing how terrible he looked. His brown eyes which usually lit up his face were sunken into his head and the dark circles beneath them made him appear ill. His short sandy hair was sticking up in spikes where he’d towelled it dry and run his fingers through it in exasperation. Richard appeared to have aged ten years in as many hours. They sat together in silence, exhausted, impotent and scared; totally, utterly scared.

5

DAY 2