Express concern for the individual-in-crisis and ask for proof of life, phrased in such a way that only the kidnapper can answer.

She was led into the living room like a condemned woman, Miller’s hands on her arm, that scratchy voice close to her ear. So many people in her house, so many more than she’d expected. Miller had promised to insulate her from them, but the ringing phone had drawn them out, and all were watching her.

The coffee table had been dragged into the centre of the living room and her mobile was there, connected to a laptop. Everyone stared at it like a ticking bomb. Around the laptop were the cards Miller had given her earlier. She noticed Bennet holding her father’s arm, but unlike her he wasn’t being led to the phone. He was being kept away from it. Jane was by a wall, cracking her fingers nervously, and Anna suddenly felt for her: the sisters had always been able to rise up, superhero-like, to help each other with a problem, but this was a shared one. And this one was beyond anything they’d ever had to cope with.

‘It’ll be fine, Jane,’ she said as she was virtually shoved towards the phone.

‘Unknown number,’ Miller said. ‘Compose yourself for a moment, then answer. Everybody else, please, move back.’

Not Nick’s mobile number. She stood over the phone, staring down at it. Such a simple item, tiny and immobile, yet it terrified her.

Retain a helpful attitude while making no firm yes or no to demands or monetary figures asked for.

‘How long… to stay on?’ Anna said. She clutched Miller’s arm like a saviour. She tried to tell herself this was silly behaviour, because Nick was going to be on the other end of that phone. It didn’t work.

Leave silent gaps, including before answering the call, so that the police can determine background noises.

‘The trace takes moments,’ Miller said. She started to tap each of the cards. ‘Keep staring right at these as you talk, dear. Cycle through them. Please, stay calm.’

Her mind was caught in a whirlwind and nothing much made sense or seemed real – it felt like a film scene – and the words on the cards wouldn’t click. But she remembered it all.

Start with ‘Hello’, just in case the unknown number belongs to an inquisitive neighbour.

It didn’t seem like much help from people with experience in these matters, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d had a week’s worth of training – this was her daughter, and her husband, and the rulebook could take a flying leap.

She snatched up the phone and said, ‘Nick, is that you? What’s going on? Where are you? Is our little lady okay? I’m so scared.’