Through the gaps around the flyers in the shop window, Ruby could see inside, where the shopkeeper was lifting Leonie onto the counter.

“Oh, I’m fine,” said Ruby, thinking, Is she okay? Is she hurt? And she tried to get past the police officer, reaching a hand to push open the door. The officer moved slightly, to block her.

“I’m afraid you can’t go in at the moment. There’s been an incident.”

Next to the counter, another police officer held the handbag that Constance used as a changing bag, the one she would have handed to Ruby along with the child. He searched through it, placing the items together in a pile as he took them out, one by one. There was no sign, inside or outside the shop, of Constance herself. Ruby became aware of the sound of the waves behind her, and wanted to turn and scan the water for the boat that Constance had said was coming to fetch her, but didn’t dare to do so. Even if it were there, in the descending dark Ruby might not have seen it: from the stories Constance had told, her family life was very basic. Ruby imagined them like seafaring Amish, without electricity or modern technology, still living in the way they’d been doing a hundred years ago, or more.

There was a strange, almost musical cry from far offshore, whipped away by the wind as soon as she heard it. Might have been a ship’s horn. Might have been the wind itself, whistling through a gap in the rocks where the land met the sea.

She glared at the police officer. “Can you move, please? I need to get inside. That’s my baby.” My baby, she thought, and in that moment, she realized it was true. Perhaps not biologically, but nevertheless true in the only way that mattered. She’s my baby now. As the thought settled on her, she stood straighter, feeling proud to claim it.

Ruby craned her neck to see, caught the lost look in Leonie’s eyes, and tried to take another step toward the door. The child hadn’t noticed her yet, and Ruby so wanted to give her a cuddle, tell her everything was going to be okay. She couldn’t get past; the police woman was still blocking her way.

“You’re the mother?” asked the officer.

“Yes,” she said. Ruby’s voice was high and quiet, and she worried she’d made her reply sound too much like a question. She cleared her throat. “Can I go in, please? She’ll be scared.” How long had she been in the care of the police? It was only ten minutes. Maybe twenty. No time at all.