My Little Girl

by Shalini Boland

Genres: General Fiction; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

Your daughter is missing. Did someone close to you take her? Seven-year-old Beatrice has gone missing. Her mother Claire ’s whole world has been turned upside down in just one moment and she can’t stop shaking. She’s desperate to find her precious daughter, but nothing about the day she disappeared makes sense… The mother-in-law: Jill was meant to be looking after Beatrice. She says she didn’t take her eyes off the little girl but her version of events doesn’t add up… Claire has never got on with her, so why should she trust her now? The husband: He should have been with their only child. Instead, he changed the plans without telling Claire. She didn’t think there were any secrets between them, but maybe she was wrong? The first wife: Laurel has always been jealous of Claire’s family. Has her husband’s ex-wife taken her daughter? Which one of them is lying? And who really knows where Beatrice is? From the million-copy bestselling author, this totally addictive psychological thriller will keep you guessing all the way to the final shocking twist. Perfect for fans of The Girl on the Train, Gone Girl and The Wife Between Us. Why readers are gripped by My Little Girl : ‘ Brilliant… so addictive that once I had started I couldn’t put it down and couldn’t go to bed till it was finished in the early hours.’ Fiction Café, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Another masterpiece from the queen of psychological thrillers. A rollercoaster of a read… gripping and completely tense from the very first chapter… 100% recommend this book! Five stars does not do this book justice.’ Little Miss Book Lover 87, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ So gripping… a mind-blowing addictive story that is unputdownable… Absolutely brilliant with so many massive twists.’ Netgalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Wow! A gripping, twisty-turny rollercoaster ride!... Will certainly have you shouting at your kindle as you frantically the turn the pages… addictive and unputdownable. Fabulous!’ My Chestnut Reading Tree, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Shalini Boland has knocked this one out of the park… thrilling… Every twist left me with my jaw dropped and my mouth wide open. Like really that didn't just happen... Oh, but it DID! OMG!! Loved it all!’ The Secret Book Sleuth, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ A gripping and twisty page-turner from the queen of psychological thrillers!... With twists galore… hugely addictive read. I really love it when a book keeps you guessing and this one does just that. An awesome thriller… compelling… nail-biting, action-packed.’ Life’s a Book, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘5 HUGE stars… Shalini Boland does a masterful job at keeping you guessing until the end! I will ALWAYS pick up a Shalini Boland book because I am never disappointed!’ Two Girls and a Book Obsession, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Wow!! Absolutely gripping… unputdownable… addictive and shocking page turner.’ Bookworm 86, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ A fast thrilling read full of plot twists that will definitely keep you reading "just one more chapter"!!! Fantastic book 5 stars! ’ Netgalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Brilliant… I just loved it from the beginning to the final page and the ending was fantastic, I never guessed a thing.’ Netgalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Absolutely loved… totally engrossed me from start to finish couldn’t wait to see what happened next!... emotional rollercoaster… a thrilling twisty read… shocking conclusion!’ Netgalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Wow! Shalini ‘The Master Storyteller’ Boland does its again... brilliant, gripping… An epic read.’ Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: April 22, 2021

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

Our faces have become stretched and distorted, our bodies thin and wavering in the glass. My seven-year-old granddaughter Beatrice and her best friend, Millie, are laughing so much, I worry they might make themselves sick. Especially after eating that enormous bag of sticky candy floss. My daughter-in-law Claire won’t be happy that I’ve let them have so much sugar, but it’s a special occasion, a treat. What’s the point of being a grandparent if I can’t spoil my only grandchild? I conveniently set aside the fact that it’s actually my son, Oliver, who’s treated them.

Oliver bought the fair tickets and gave me thirty pounds to spend on the girls, bless his heart. He was supposed to have brought Beatrice and Millie to the funfair this evening, but the poor boy has been so tired and stressed with work this week that I offered to do it for him. I know Claire has got it into her head that I can’t mind my granddaughter responsibly, but I did raise my own child without any major mishaps, so I think I can just about cope. Oliver decided it would be best if we didn’t actually tell Claire about it until afterwards. We’ll say it was a last-minute work emergency. She’s out with her friends this evening, so I’m sure she’ll be nice and relaxed. She’ll be fine.

She needn’t have worried. Everything’s going swimmingly. We’re all having a wonderful time – me especially. Being here with the girls is making me feel young again. I remember Bob and I brought Oliver to this very same fair when he was a little boy. My Bob. I’ve been utterly lost without him these past four years. That heart attack was so sudden, so cruel. We should have had so much more time together. Tears prickle behind my eyes and I give a big sniff, tell myself not to be so maudlin. I’m here with my lovely Bea, having a rare fun evening. I can’t spoil it with sad thoughts.

‘Granny!’ Beatrice takes my hand and pulls me into another of the little chambers in this labyrinthine hall of mirrors. Disconcertingly, the walls are jet black in this room, making it hard to gauge exactly how large the space is. Beatrice’s mahogany hair is swinging, her dark eyes flashing. She looks like a little Spanish dancer in her red dress with frills around the hem, and her matching sparkly red sandals. Thankfully, she’s always loved to wear swirly dresses and bright colours, unlike her friends who all seem to go for today’s dreadfully boring fashion of jeans and leggings and those atrocious dark-coloured hoodies. No, my little Bea is gloriously extrovert and colourful, just like me.

I smooth my hands over my turquoise paisley wrap-dress and pat my long wavy hair, greying now, but still a hint of the glossy brunette I used to be. I glance up and join in the peal of Beatrice and Millie’s laughter as we clown around in front of a mirror that takes up the whole of one wall. It’s widened our bodies so that we appear to be almost square.

I’m thrilled the girls are having such a marvellous time. Maybe after this evening Claire will realise that I’m perfectly capable of looking after my own flesh and blood. I wish my daughter-in-law and I got along better. I really, genuinely do. I’ve tried and tried, but she’s so spiky, so dismissive. I get the feeling that she just tolerates me.

‘Granny, your phone’s ringing.’ Beatrice reaches into my handbag and pulls out my mobile phone, passing it to me.

‘You’ve got good hearing,’ I tell my granddaughter. ‘I can’t believe you heard that above all the noise in here.’

Beatrice and Millie giggle and race over to the mirror on the far wall. I peer at my phone screen to see a missed call from Laurel, my ex-daughter-in-law, Oliver’s first wife. I’ll call her back later.

‘Wait for me, girls!’ I hurry after them, my phone still in my hand, but it starts vibrating. It’s Laurel again. I suppose it must be urgent if she’s trying a second time. ‘Girls,’ I call, ‘I’m just going to take this call. Stay where I can see you.’

‘Don’t worry, Granny!’

I slide the icon across the screen. ‘Laurel?’

‘Jill.’

‘Hi, Laurel. Everything okay? You’ll have to speak up. I’m at the fair with Beatrice. The music’s too loud to hear anything properly.’ I glance up to see the girls pulling silly faces at their wobbly reflections and I can’t help smiling. A family with young children bustle past and I’m forced to move over so I don’t lose sight of my two.

‘Sorry, Jill. You’re busy. I’ll let you go.’ Laurel’s voice is steeped in gloom.

‘No, it’s fine,’ I reassure, ‘I can chat for a moment or two.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, of course.’

Beatrice beckons to me to follow them into the next chamber. I edge past the family and a gaggle of raucous teenagers, anxious not to lose sight of my young charges. The next chamber is as bright as the previous one was dark, with wide red-and-white-striped walls giving the impression we’re inside a stick of rock or a candy cane. It’s busier in here, and Beatrice is almost camouflaged, her scarlet dress the same shade of red as the walls.

‘Did you say you’re at the fair?’ Laurel asks.

‘Yes, with Beatrice and her friend. I thought I mentioned it to you yesterday.’

‘Maybe. I can’t remember. No Oliver?’

‘No. Claire’s out with friends and Oliver’s tired, so I offered.’

‘And Claire’s okay with that? With you taking Beatrice?’

I hear the scepticism in Laurel’s voice and I get a sudden urge to defend Claire.

‘She doesn’t know yet, but she’ll be fine.’ I do feel slightly guilty that Laurel knows my relationship with Claire isn’t exactly the best in the world. I mean, I love my daughter-in-law, of course I do, she’s Beatrice’s mother. But I’ve always clicked more with Laurel. It’s a personality thing. And I suppose I haven’t quite come to terms with the fact that Laurel and Oliver are no longer together. Even though it’s been over eight years since they divorced, Laurel and I stayed friends. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘I’m just feeling a bit… down. My flatmates are always out having fun, my art isn’t selling enough to let me give up my shifts at the restaurant. I’m just calling to moan. Sorry. I’ll go.’

‘Oh, Laurel. You know you can have a moan whenever you like.’ I feel sorry for her. She hasn’t moved on from Oliver. Never met anyone new that she stuck with – or who’s stuck with her. I feel it’s the least I can do to be an ear for her when she needs it.

‘Thanks, Jill. I don’t know what I’d do without your friendship.’

I realise that I’ve lost sight of the girls for a moment. ‘Hang on a sec, Laurel. I just need to…’ I take the phone from my ear and glance around the room, the wavering reflections merging with the sudden crowd of visitors. I catch glimpses of red that make my heart skitter with relief, until I realise it’s just the candy-striped wallpaper, or someone’s T-shirt. Suddenly, I’m very hot and very cold all at once.

‘Beatrice!’ I cry, my voice tremulous and thin. ‘Bea!’

A few people turn to stare, but I don’t make eye contact. I’m too busy scanning the room. They’ve probably just gone into the next room. I need to calm down.

‘Are you okay?’ A young woman touches my arm, her brown eyes filled with worry.

‘My… my granddaughter and her friend. They’re only seven. I can’t see where they are… Beatrice! Millie!’

‘Oh. We’ll help look. Don’t worry. What do they look like?’

‘Beatrice has dark hair, a red dress. Millie…’ What does Millie look like? Focus, Jill. ‘She’s got dark-brown hair and she’s wearing grey leggings and a T-shirt with a picture of a dog. You know, those little dogs with the squashed faces.’

‘A pug?’

‘Yes. Yes that’s it.’

‘Is that her?’

I look to where the woman is pointing, and feel my shoulders grow light with relief as I spot Millie pulling faces in one of the mirrors. ‘Oh, thank goodness. That’s her friend, Millie. Thank you.’ I smile at the woman who says something comforting and gives a little laugh. If Millie’s over there, then Beatrice can’t be too far away.

I remember Laurel’s still on the phone which I’m clutching tightly, my palm now slippery with sweat. I bring it back to my ear. ‘Sorry, Laurel, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back, okay?’

‘Is everything—’ She’s still speaking as I end the call. I’ll apologise later, but right now I can’t relax until I’ve laid eyes on my granddaughter. I stride over to Millie who glances up with a shy smile.

‘Having fun?’

She nods.

‘Where’s Beatrice?’

‘She’s…’ Millie frowns and looks to her left, and then to her right. She turns and scans the room. The hot and cold feeling returns, along with a loud and juddering heartbeat.

‘Millie.’ I take hold of her shoulders. ‘Which way did she go?’

Her face pales. ‘I don’t know.’

I take the girl’s hand and head to the next room of mirrors, the walls a kaleidoscope of colour. It’s full of families and friends laughing, the music is pounding, the air stifling. There’s no sign of Beatrice. Perhaps she went back to the previous room. I almost drag Millie with me and we push our way back through the crowded candy-striped room and into the black room once again. My worried, distorted reflections loom back at me.

‘Beatrice!’ I cry, my voice not powerful enough to cut through the laughter and the music. ‘Beatrice! Where are you?’ Maybe she went outside. It’s so hot in here, she probably needed some fresh air.

‘Still looking for your granddaughter?’ I whirl around and see the face of the young woman I spoke to a moment ago.

‘I can’t find her!’

‘Don’t worry. She’ll be here somewhere. Age seven, dark hair, red dress, right?’

I nod. It’ll be okay. She’ll be fine. I’m sure I’m panicking over nothing. I remember losing sight of Oliver when he was just a little younger than Beatrice. It was in a department store and he was hiding among a rack of winter coats. Little scamp. I got the store to put out an announcement over the tannoy. Scared me silly at the time. This will be the same thing. Of course it will.

Millie and I quickly scour each room in the hall of mirrors before stumbling outside into the warm evening sunshine. Millie is crying now, big gulping sobs and fat tears that slide down her face. I should comfort her, but I can barely see straight, barely breathe. I scan the area, but there’s no sign of my granddaughter.

She’s not in there.

She’s not out here.

Where is she? She can’t have just disappeared into thin air. I’m sure she must be somewhere nearby. She has to be.

How will I tell Oliver and Claire that I’ve lost our darling Beatrice? They’ll never, ever forgive me.

I stare back at my reflection in the mirror as I place my mobile phone on the oak dressing table with a gentle thunk. My makeup is immaculate, my straight black hair gleaming. One minute I’m getting ready to have a night out with my friends, the next minute I’m listening to my mother-in-law hysterically explain that she’s lost Beatrice. Lost her. Why was Jill even with Beatrice? And where’s Ollie? I don’t think any of this is sinking in. It can’t be real, can it? Things like this happen to other people. Careless people. Not people like me.

Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry. Don’t panic. Stay calm. It will all be fine. It will be okay. Kids wander off all the time and their parents find them. She’ll have been sidetracked by something or other. Although, in this case, it was probably Jill who wandered off or got distracted. Beatrice is probably looking for her absent-minded granny right this second. But Jill stressed on the phone that they’d looked everywhere – she and the fairground employees, the members of the public. They did a thorough search. She’s already called my husband, Ollie, and he’s heading over there now. The fairground manager has called the police. The police!

My vision blurs, my reflection distorting in the mirror. Why am I still sitting here? I need to move! I need to get to the fairground. I push myself to my feet, snatch up my phone and glance around the messy bedroom – clothes flung everywhere. I’d tried on numerous outfits for my evening out, opting for my favourite navy dress. I don’t have time to change but I leave the new strappy brown sandals where they are and pull a pair of grubby white tennis pumps from the wardrobe, tug them over my feet – smudging my still-tacky toenail varnish – and lace them up with fumbling fingers.

Again, I try to tamp down the flare of anger at having Jill inform me that she was at the fair with my daughter and her friend instead of Oliver. He knows my feelings about his mother. It’s nothing personal, but she’s just too scatty to be trusted to look after Beatrice alone. She always has mishaps with her, and that’s not an exaggeration. The final straw was around a year ago when Jill left Beatrice in her eighty-five-year-old neighbour’s garden while she nipped to the shops to buy burgers for a barbecue. While she was out, Beatrice fell and hurt her wrist and had to be rushed to A & E. Her wrist was only sprained, thank goodness, but that’s not the point.

Ollie and I both agreed that we wouldn’t let Jill look after Beatrice on her own after that. And now look what’s happened! What could have possessed my husband to change his mind and let her take them to the fair? What was so important that he had to call his mother to take them instead of him, as previously arranged? I grit my teeth in fury at the fact that the two of them have obviously concocted this behind my back because they knew I wouldn’t approve. I hate being the bad guy, but it’s not because I want to be mean, it’s because I dreaded something like this happening.

Before going downstairs, I grab a tissue from the box on my dressing table and use it to wipe off my dark lipstick. I can’t go to look for my missing daughter dressed up to the nines. It doesn’t seem right. Surely the police will find Beatrice before I get there. Unless… what if someone took her? Someone from the fair? Or a random stranger. No. Don’t think like that. My hands begin to shake, my knees buckle and a deep coldness rushes through me. I can’t let my imagination get the better of me. I have to be positive. Panicking won’t help. I punch out a text to my best friend, Freya, to say I can’t make it tonight. That Beatrice has gone missing at the fair but that I’m sure she’ll turn up any minute.

I take a breath and hurry down the stairs into the dim hallway, the late summer light already fading. Snatching up the car keys from the hall table, I take a moment to call Oliver to see if there’s any news. My call goes to voicemail. He must already be en route to the fair. I wait for the outgoing message to end before snapping.

‘Ollie, what the hell happened? Why was your mum at the fair with the girls? Is there any news? Surely they’ve found Beatrice by now. I’m getting in the car but call me the second you hear anything.’ My voice is sharp and shrill. I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is fury or fear. Probably both.

Just before I head out the door, my gaze catches on a school photo of Beatrice on the wall. It was taken a couple of years ago. She’s grinning at the camera, her eyes twinkling with mischief. My breath hitches and I blink back emotion. I have to get to my little girl.

My phone buzzes and my heart jumps at the thought of it being Oliver with news of our little daughter. But it’s just Freya texting back, telling me to try not to worry, and to let her know if she can help in any way. I send back a quick text saying I’ll keep her posted.

I close the door to our 1970s chalet bungalow that sits at the bottom of St Catherine’s Hill. The summer air is warm and still. The birds are singing and I can hear children’s laughter from the neighbours’ gardens. It’s a perfectly beautiful evening. But the dread in my stomach dips and roils. All I can do right now is drive to the fairground and hope that this feeling will end soon. That my bright and beautiful daughter will be home this evening and we can put this whole horrible episode behind us.

It’ll be fine. Jill’s so scatty, she’s obviously just lost sight of her. It’s happened before. This time won’t be any different… will it?

‘Is it my fault?’ Millie asks through hiccupping sobs, her blue eyes swimming with tears. We’re sitting on one of the wooden fairground benches, my arm around this little girl who isn’t Beatrice, while Oliver speaks to the police. His face is grey with worry as he runs a hand through his brown wavy hair. I’ve already told the police what happened, and now they’re letting me have a few minutes’ break while they speak to my son. I haven’t even had a proper chance to speak to Oliver myself yet, other than to give him a hug and say how sorry I am, how terrible I feel. My heart hurts that I’m the one who’s brought this distress to his door.

I gaze down at Millie. ‘Of course it’s not your fault, Millie. Beatrice has just got lost, that’s all. The police are going to find her any minute now, just you wait and see.’ I’m trying to reassure myself as much as Millie.

She nods and puts her thumb in her mouth, even though she’s not a baby any more. Must be a comfort thing. I feel like doing the same. I absolutely can’t believe what’s happened. One minute the three of us were all having a wonderful time, laughing and pulling silly faces in the mirrors, the next… well, it’s all a terrible nightmare.

The police arrived quickly and set up a cordon around the whole fair, letting people out one at a time and asking them if they’d seen Beatrice. I had to send them a photo of my granddaughter from my phone. Of course, they’ve had to close the fair temporarily. Right now, they’re speaking to all the employees and asking to look in their vehicles and caravans. I was certain she’d have turned up by now. It’s crazy. Where could she have got to? She wouldn’t have run away, and I don’t understand how she could have got lost – not when she was right next to Millie. Although, being in the hall of mirrors made it very confusing.

‘Are you sure you didn’t see where Beatrice went, Millie?’ I ask again.

She shakes her head vehemently.

‘Is Beatrice playing a joke, do you think? Did she tell you to keep it a secret?’

Millie unplugs her thumb. ‘No. I want my mum.’

‘Of course you do. She’ll be here soon, pet. Don’t worry.’ I can’t tell if Millie’s being truthful, or if she’s keeping something from me on purpose. The police questioned her very briefly, but they’re waiting for her parents to arrive before they speak to her properly. Perhaps then she’ll be more talkative. What a mess. How did this happen? Why did I take that call from Laurel? Is this really my fault? Surely not. Even when I was talking to Laurel on the phone, I still kept one eye on the girls. I literally lost concentration for the briefest of heartbeats.

I haven’t mentioned to the police that I was on the phone at the time when Beatrice disappeared. It’s not relevant and I know Claire would only hold it against me if she found out I was speaking to Laurel. Anyway, I’m almost certain Beatrice will turn up at any moment. The alternative is too unthinkable.

‘Mummy!’ Millie wriggles out from my arm and races across the grass towards a smartly dressed couple with blanched, worried faces. She throws herself at both parents, both of whom crouch down and bring her in for kisses and a hug. The woman looks over her daughter’s head and locks eyes with me. I suppose I’d better go over there and explain what’s happened. The thought makes me feel physically sick.

I suddenly feel my age. Earlier I was congratulating myself on feeling so energetic and vibrant. Being here at the fair with these sweet girls had reminded me of being a young parent again, but now… now I feel like a doddering old granny. Someone who’s not to be relied upon. Not to be entrusted with the care of my own granddaughter. I make myself stand straighter, smooth down my dress and walk over to this family who are strangers to me.

They both stand. Millie’s mother, an attractive blonde, holds her daughter in close, as though she’s protecting her against me.

‘Hello.’ I hold out my hand. ‘I’m Jill Nolan, Beatrice’s grandmother.’ No one reaches to shake my hand so I let it fall back to my side.

‘I’m Millie’s dad, Paul Jensen. This is my wife, Tanya.’ He’s tall, intimidating, with short brown hair and a light tan. ‘Can you tell us what’s going on? Oliver called to say Beatrice is missing. He said he wasn’t here when it happened. That you were here alone with the girls. With our daughter.’ Paul Jensen’s words are clipped; his eyes clouded and his face taut, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

Tanya puts a hand on his arm before turning back to me. ‘Have they found her? Beatrice?’

‘No.’ I swallow. ‘Not yet. The police are…’ I gesture to the fairground. ‘They’re looking. Oliver’s talking to them now. We’re waiting for Claire to arrive.’ I feel as though I’m in a bad dream. Everything is wobbling around me, like the distorted mirrors from earlier. I really don’t feel good at all.

‘What I don’t understand,’ Paul says, fixing me with a hard stare, ‘is why you were looking after Millie. I mean, no offence, but we don’t even know you. I thought Oliver was supposed to be bringing them.’

Oh dear, this isn’t good at all. ‘He was, but…’ My hands are flapping around like demented crows and I can’t seem to think straight.

‘Go easy, Paul.’ Tanya gives me a kind look while stroking Millie’s hair. ‘Her granddaughter’s missing.’

‘I understand that. But this could just as easily be Millie missing too. You’re obviously not a fit person to be in charge of two young children, least of all my daughter.’

Tanya turns to him and pulls him back, whispering heatedly.

I’m mortified by his attack, but I don’t have the emotional energy to stick up for myself. ‘You’re right. You’re absolutely right,’ I stammer. ‘I’m so sorry.’ My knees are giving way and I don’t want to be rude to this couple but I have to get back to that bench before I keel over. ‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat before turning and walking away.

Tanya follows and puts a hand under my elbow to guide me. ‘No, I’m sorry about my husband,’ she whispers. ‘He didn’t mean to be so rude. He’s just very protective of our youngest. He’ll be mortified when he realises how he spoke to you.’

I nod, grateful for her help getting me back to the bench. I thank her as I sink down onto the wooden seat, the air whooshing out of my lungs. The evening is still so warm. I could really do with a nice cool breeze. I wish it were autumn already.

Tanya squeezes my hand. ‘I’m sure they’ll find Beatrice any minute now and we can all breathe a sigh of relief.’

‘Tan!’ Paul calls across the grass. ‘The police want to speak to Millie in a minute. You coming?’

‘Will you be okay sitting here on your own?’ Her concern makes me feel older and frailer than ever. But she’s sweet to worry. A really nice woman. Millie’s lucky to have her as a mum.

‘My son will be over any minute, and Claire’s on her way. I’ll be fine. Thank you.’

‘Okay. Try not to worry. I’m sure Beatrice will be found before you know it.’

I nod, but somehow all my usual optimism has deserted me. All I can think about is my poor darling Beatrice frightened somewhere. Alone. Or worse.

I’m amazed I didn’t crash the car on the short drive over to the fairground. I don’t even remember the journey I was in such a daze. Before leaving, I received a text from Oliver asking me to bring a worn item of Beatrice’s clothing for the sniffer dogs to use. That text almost made me vomit. It brought it home to me that this might not be one of those everyday family dramas. That it might be something more serious. With trembling fingers, I took Beatrice’s rainbow nightshirt from under her pillow and inhaled the scent of her before folding it and putting it into my handbag.

I park in the supermarket car park opposite the fairground, buy a parking ticket from the machine and head to the pedestrian crossing where I wait for the lights to change. There’s a steady stream of traffic; no chance of even the tiniest gap where I might dart across the road. A family standing next to me express their dismay at the CLOSED sign displayed at the entrance to the fair.

‘I thought it was supposed to be open until ten,’ the woman says.

‘It is,’ the man replies. ‘I checked the website.’

‘You sure you got the right day? It’s not even eight and it looks pretty closed to me.’

‘Look, there’s police over there.’ The man sighs. ‘Something’s obviously happened.’ Their tween girls are interrupting their conversation, asking if they’re still able to go to the fair, disappointment lacing their words. My heart stutters when I realise that their disappointment has been caused by my lost daughter. I want to tell this family to shut up, to stop being so insensitive. But it’s not their fault. They don’t know that my Beatrice has gone missing.

‘Probably an accident,’ the woman says. ‘One of the rides might have broken. Maybe we had a lucky escape. That could have been us on there. Hope no one got . . .