‘I know! He should be.’ The fact that George is popping home to eat with Archie means he’ll likely be working late tonight. I stretch my face into a smile as I strap Archie in the car, trying not to worry about what might be waiting for me if George is home.

As I drive, Archie chatters incessantly, his words falling out in a rush. ‘Mum, a policeman came to visit today.’

‘Why?’ I ask sharply, already fearing the worst as I grip the steering wheel. A child has gone missing. There’s been a stranger hanging round the nursery gates. That happened last term and I kept Archie home for a week. George says I have to loosen my hold on him as he gets older but I don’t think there’s anything wrong in trying to protect him. An image flashes into my mind of my mum at the police station when we were finally reunited. ‘I’ll never stop blaming myself.’ She had wiped tears from her cheeks. It’s a big responsibility having a child, isn’t it? As joyous as it is watching them grow, it’s also equally terrifying.

‘The policeman taught us about being safe when we cross the road,’ Archie says. ‘We have to hold our grown-up’s hand. That would be you or Daddy. And then look left and right and not step off the pavement until the green man says it is okay but I said I’ve never seen a green man and the policeman said he’s not actually a man at all so it’s silly he’s called one, isn’t it, Mummy?’

‘Yes.’ I take one hand off the wheel and use my glove to mop my damp brow. A routine visit, that’s all. Nothing is wrong.

‘And we can only cross the road when it’s straight and not on a corner because we are little and the cars can’t see us but, Mummy, cars can’t see us because they don’t have eyes. I think the policeman was a bit bonkers bananas, don’t you?’ He screams with laughter.

I think policemen are many things: brave, resourceful but also sometimes painfully slow. There’s a process they have to follow, rules. I get that, but sometimes the wait for justice can seem endless and sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands. I feel sick as I meet Archie’s innocent eyes in the rear-view mirror.

We drive past the cemetery. I don’t look. I can’t look.

George’s car is already on the driveway. The knot in my stomach tightens, along with my chest.

I lift a wriggling Archie from his seat and carry him in front of me like a shield. He kicks his legs, desperate to get down and walk.

‘Hello!’ I shout down the hallway that smells of strawberries thanks to the diffuser on the windowsill. ‘We’re home.’ My shoulders are concrete but I keep my voice bright and breezy. I’m not sure whether George knows so I brazen it out.

‘I’ll fix us some lunch…’ I trail off as I enter the kitchen. See the brown box on the worktop.