I’d made a mistake with my last lodger. She had been the right sex, but she’d asked too many questions. Wanted to be friends. So she had to go.

‘I’ll ask Nancy to pass their details on to you – tomorrow, if you like?’

I nodded but I was already distracted, moving away from the counter, towards where I’d left you by the open door.

I froze. You’d gone.

I’d turned my back on you for just a few minutes. It was foolish of me. I never normally let you out of my sight. But I felt unusually safe in that moment, you see, surrounded by a collective Christmas cheer and villagers who didn’t really know me but whom I’d been watching for the last three years, from afar, to see whom I could trust. They all seemed honest, hardworking folk. Salt of the earth. And I thought I could trust you, that I’d instilled it in you since you could walk to be careful, to stay near me. Not to wander off. But you were just a little girl. Only two and a half. A little girl mesmerized by the glitziness of Christmas.

You’d gone.

‘Lolly!’ I cried, unable to keep the panic from my voice. I stepped out of the café and onto the street. My eyes scanned the pavements and the square, the group of carol singers, who had finished their rendition of ‘Silent Night’ and begun to disperse. It had been a minute, two at the most. You couldn’t have got very far. Yet I couldn’t see you anywhere. I couldn’t see your little red coat or your pink scarf or the bright patterned bobble hat. Blood rushed to my ears.

‘Are you okay?’ I could hear Melissa’s voice behind me but it felt distorted, like I was under water.

‘She’s gone! Lolly’s gone!’ I cried. ‘I can’t see her. I can’t see her anywhere.’

People were milling about, laughing, talking, sipping mulled wine. I wanted to scream at them all. GET OUT THE WAY! WHERE IS SHE? WHERE’S MY CHILD? I could feel tears at the back of my eyes, panic pressing on my chest.

He’s taken you. That’s all I could think, over and over again, replaying like a horror film in my mind.

I pushed past people, calling your name. I could sense that Melissa was behind me, trying to calm me, but I couldn’t process what she was saying. I was in a panic. A blind panic – I’ve heard people call it that, and that’s exactly how it felt. I was blinded by fear.

I pushed through people, Melissa on my tail. I heard her asking them if they’d seen a little girl in a red duffel coat.