I carried her into the bathroom and I ran the tap warm — not hot, warm, because a part of my brain that had done a first aid course in 2016 came online and said not hot — and I put her hands under it, and I wrapped her in a bath towel and then in my coat, and I sat on the closed lid of the toilet with her against my chest for about four minutes while she shook.

Then I carried her out into the living room.

“Somebody is going to tell me what happened to my daughter.”

Beatrice was still holding the dish towel.

“My mother’s bracelet went missing this morning,” she said.

“The gold one.