When I’ve looked at every camera in the shop, I retrace my steps to the games store to collect Sam.

The corner where he was sitting is empty now. I scan the store, looking in front of each shelf and bargain bin. Everywhere I look there are rows of browsing backs. Sam’s not at the info counter, or hiding behind a cardboard cut-out display.

I go to the front counter.

‘Have you seen a little kid? He’s ten, about this tall?’ My voice sounds normal even though my insides don’t. The sales assistant stops pricing games with a sticker gun.

‘Oh, hey,’ he says, as if he knows me. ‘Who are you looking for?’

‘My brother. He’s wearing a purple jumper and jeans, maybe?’

‘Sorry, no. Nick, you haven’t seen a kid on the loose have you?’

His work colleague shakes his head.

The assistant puts down his gun. ‘Do you want some help looking for him?’

‘No, no thanks.’

I exit the store and look both ways up the aisle, a frantic feeling already coming on. I look at waist level among the crowds of shoppers. No Sam.

I turn to ice. My fingers, toes, all the way to the ends of my hair, and especially my heart.

I walk to the end of one aisle, look up and down the next row of shops, then go back to the other end and robotically repeat the action.

Sam is gone.

The next obvious place to check is the large entrance to the shopping centre. To the right is the food court where we ate dinner, to the left the gates to the subway.

I consider the sliding doors to the underground platforms. I picture a man holding Sam’s hand and leading him down the escalators, onto a train, and away. Forever. In my chest is a cold fist.

‘Chlo? Chlo?’

I turn so quickly I get vertigo.

Sam stands five metres away, holding a plastic bag with his precious games inside. He’s wearing his orange hoodie, not a purple jumper, and cargo shorts, not jeans.

‘There you are!’ I swoop, and in the time it takes me to reach my brother, I melt into fury. ‘Where were you? I told you not to move from there. You know to stay put! It’s the first rule.’

‘I was looking for you! I was trying to find you!’

Sam keeps repeating these meaningless words over and over as I grab his wrist and drag him towards the doors. I’m hot all over; something flutters around my body, something has been let loose. I keep moving to disguise it.

‘Chloe!’ Sam pulls away until I stop. He pulls his hand free and rubs his wrist. ‘You’re hurting me.’ His lower lip is suspiciously trembly. Then—whispering—‘I couldn’t find you.’