Inside the station, a frosted ceiling lantern cast an insipid light over the worn wooden counter, the smell of disinfectant doing little to mask the odor of acrid smoke. Alice rang the brass bell and glanced around as she waited. There was a glass partition to one side and a large noticeboard on the other covered in lost and founds: pictures of pets and missing people vying for attention. The rest of the décor and furniture seemed unwelcoming: two wooden benches against anemic walls, and closed doors either side.

A young policeman appeared behind the counter. “Good morning, miss. How can I help you?” He looked her up and down disdainfully, and she registered how creased and filthy her clothes were, but it was too late to disguise them.

“I need to report a crime,” she said, pressing her hands onto the counter for support.

“What sort, miss?”

“I don’t know—kidnapping, child abduction . . . I don’t know what you call it. My baby’s been taken.”

“Someone’s stolen your baby, miss?” he said, sounding puzzled.

“Yes, my mother.”

He frowned momentarily before breaking into a smile. “Well, I’m sure she’ll bring her back. Probably just lost track of time.”

“No, you don’t understand. She’s taken her without my permission. She’s not allowed to do that, is she?” Alice asked, the words tumbling out as she grabbed hold of his sleeves. “She’s not allowed to take my baby.”

“Madam,” the policeman said, as he pulled his arms away and straightened out his cuffs.

“I’m sorry.” Alice’s breath caught in her throat, threatening to suffocate her.

“No, your mum can’t, miss—I mean, madam. But are you sure about this . . . ? I mean, what about the father, is there a chance he’s got the baby?”

“None,” Alice said, eyes welling with tears. “He’s no longer with us. It’s my mother. . . . You have to help me. . . . I don’t know where they’ve gone.”

“You’ll have to wait for the station sergeant to come back, but I can take a statement. Why don’t you come through and have a seat? I’ll get you a nice cup of tea and take down some details,” he added, at last showing some concern.

“But why can’t you do something?” she said, staring at his dark navy tunic and the helmet with police written on it. “We have to hurry,” she pleaded. “You need to start looking. They could be anywhere by now.”

“I’m sorry, madam. I can take a statement, but the rest will take time. There’s far too much crime for the regular police to investigate, let alone us special constables. But let’s start with your name.”