I sit with these two women I barely knew at school, hoping they are more interested in talking about themselves than asking me questions. Claire has straightened blonde hair to her shoulders and a full face of make-up; she obviously has no intention of getting in the sea. The other woman has a similar haircut; they probably have the same hairdresser. I feel a little jealous as I miss having a best friend; it’s been a long time – unless you count Chris, which I do but it really isn’t the same. They both have small children and I think about my own, and how young I was when I had Daisy. I wish I had brought Daisy and Lloyd with me. I feel sad that I have to keep this part of myself from them.

‘Do you remember Flick?’ Claire says to her friend, who I don’t recognise at all. ‘Flick, this is Jenny Rawlings.’

‘A bit, I guess. We didn’t really talk much,’ Jenny says, one eye on her toddler, who is trying to steal another child’s pebble collection, despite the millions of pebbles in the immediate vicinity.

‘Are you down for the summer?’ Claire asks.

‘No, just a week.’

‘Well, you picked a hell of a week. It’s been all drama all the time,’ Claire says excitedly.

‘I noticed, it’s crazy.’

‘Our Neil said they have had loads of overtime and they have even brought in some outside police to deal with all the stuff they have going on,’ Jenny tells me, clearly desperate to do some gossiping.

‘Where did you move to then?’ Claire asks.

‘I moved to The Lake District. Got married, had two kids, the whole shebang.’

‘Wow. I went to a wedding up at Lake Windermere a few years ago and it was absolutely stunning. You lucky thing,’ Claire says. She is a lot friendlier than I remember her being at school. But in school you stick to your cliques and just assume no one knows what you are going through. Of course, in my case, it was true.

‘Your husband’s in the police?’ I say to Jenny, finally processing what she said before.

‘Well, partner, we aren’t married. Yeah, he’s a police officer.’

‘Is he working on the missing girl case?’

‘Everyone is. They thought they found her up at the Bully Woods, but it was someone else.’

‘I heard on the radio. No identification?’ I say. I can see that Jenny is excited at being questioned, like she is the holder of something precious and rare, like she is some kind of dealer. She leans in, a twinkle in her eye. Whispering as though she has never told anyone this before, which we all know isn’t true.