Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting on the sofa once more, having just fed Daisy. Normally it’s a quiet moment, a time for us to bond, but this evening I’m on autopilot while my mind jumps back and forth from I need to keep my baby safe to It’ll be okay, don’t panic. Dominic strolls back into the lounge dressed in clean shorts and a T-shirt, his hair damp from the shower. I give a start as the doorbell rings.

‘I’ll get it,’ Dominic says.

‘It’s probably the police,’ I call after him, retying the strap of my dress and running a hand over my dark curls, making sure I look half-presentable. I glance out of the window, get to my feet and place Daisy over my shoulder, patting her back and waiting for her to burp, hoping she doesn’t throw up on me – I forgot to put a cloth over my shoulder.

I hear my husband introduce himself. Seconds later he comes back into the lounge accompanied by the two officers. ‘Can I make you a tea or coffee?’ Dominic asks them. ‘Or something cold?’

‘No thanks,’ the taller one says, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead with his fingertips. ‘Just checking – you weren’t in the house when your wife heard the voices in the monitor?’

‘No, I was out for a run,’ Dominic replies, ‘but she filled me in on what happened.’

‘Good. Well, we spoke to all your neighbours, and none of them have a baby in their house. It’s just you with a little one. And there aren’t any other residential roads close by. You’re surrounded by fields.’

‘Could the monitor have picked up a signal from further away?’ I ask.

‘It’s doubtful,’ he replies, ‘but we’ll look into it.’

‘Because someone, somewhere, has taken a baby – or at least they’ve tried to.’

‘If there’s an abduction or attempted abduction, I’m sure the parents will get in touch with us.’

‘But what if they don’t know yet?’ I say, the horror of the situation dawning on me. ‘What if they’re sitting in their lounge watching TV thinking their baby is fast asleep upstairs, but, in reality, it’s already been taken by someone? They might not check on their child for hours.’ I glance out of the window once more, putting my fingers to the glass, half-expecting to see someone making off down the road with a child.

‘Kirstie,’ Dom says gently. ‘They’ve spoken to all our neighbours. No one has a baby. I’m sure the monitor wouldn’t pick up a signal from miles away. Could it have been someone else’s TV programme you heard through the monitor?’

‘I don’t think so. No. It sounded like Daisy’s cry and then someone clearly saying they wanted to take the baby. It sounded real. Not like something on TV.’

‘Look,’ the taller officer says with a sympathetic expression. ‘Whatever you heard, it gave you a shock, understandably. But if anyone has abducted a child, we’ll find out about it, and we’ll act on it, okay? And, in the meantime, if you hear or see anything else that worries you, then please give us a call.’

‘Thanks, Officer.’ Dominic shakes his hand and the policemen turn to leave.

Is that it? I think. Is that all they’re going to do? I could’ve done that myself. I could’ve walked around and asked the neighbours if they had any babies staying with them. Maybe they think I’m a crackpot. I know I probably look dishevelled and out of it, but I’m the mother of a six-month-old baby, for goodness sake. I turn to look at myself in the mirror above the mantelpiece. My usually glossy curls are both greasy and frizzy, and my face is pale as the moon. I bend my head to sniff my shoulder – a waft of baby milk, sweat and recent fear makes me wrinkle my nose.

Dominic sees the officers out and comes back in, his arms open wide. I step into them, still cradling Daisy. I haven’t put her down since I heard the voices. Dominic smells of citrus shower gel. Of home. I feel safe in his arms. He kisses the top of my head.

‘How about I make my Thai curry tonight?’ he says. ‘I’ll put Daisy back to bed first. You go and have a shower, then sit down and put your feet up.’

‘Thai curry sounds good,’ I say, not really feeling at all hungry. ‘But I’d rather keep Daisy down here with us after what’s happened.’

Dominic steps back and stares at me. ‘You’re really shaken up, Kirst. You’re white as a ghost.’

‘I thought they’d taken her,’ I say. ‘It’s just a shock, that’s all. I’ll be okay in a minute.’

‘Why don’t I bring Daisy’s old Moses basket downstairs?’ he suggests. ‘It’s in the spare room, isn’t it? She can stay down here with us this evening.’

‘Will she still fit in it?’ I ask hopefully.

‘She’ll be fine.’

‘Okay.’ My shoulders relax a little. As long as we keep her with us, I’ll feel better. Safer.

Half an hour later, I’m sitting at the kitchen table sipping a glass of water and Daisy is fast asleep in her old basket – her mop of dark hair pressing against the end. She barely fits, but she’ll be fine in there for now. Dominic is standing at the hob, cooking away, dance tunes blaring out of the speakers. You’d think the noise would wake Daisy, but she’s already used to his awful taste in music. Dom rarely cooks, and when he does it’s always a Thai curry or spaghetti Bolognese, both of which he makes exceptionally well. The bifold doors are open and I’m itching to close them tight and turn the lock, but it’s too hot, especially while Dom’s cooking. We would roast. I’ll close the doors before we eat.

‘I’m going to check everything in the house is locked up,’ I say, getting to my feet. ‘Keep an eye on her, won’t you? Don’t leave her alone.’

‘I’m here. She’ll be fine. There’s no one out there.’

But I’m not convinced. ‘I won’t be long.’ Quickly, I move around the house, closing all the windows in each and every room, even the smaller windows that only a cat could fit through. I don’t want to take any chances. I won’t think about how warm the rooms will get without fresh air circulating. I can put up with the heat if it means my little girl will be safe. Lastly, I check the front door, turn the mortice lock and slide the chain across with shaking fingers.

I can’t remember the last time I felt fear like this. Actual spine-tingling fear. Maybe never. No, not never. There was one time when I was about thirteen or fourteen, walking home from school one day. I was alone on a quiet suburban street and it was winter, a dark afternoon with no one else around. I heard footsteps behind me, getting closer. I was too scared to turn around, somehow convinced it was a man about to attack me, my mind conjuring up all these unthinkable scenarios. I had worked myself up into such a state of clammy terror that I couldn’t think straight. I quickened my pace but didn’t want to run in case he chased after me, confirming my fears. Instead, I crossed over the road and slowed my pace. It was only when I saw it was actually a woman of my mother’s age that I felt a flood of foolish relief, despite my heart still battering my ribcage.

But that was a fear of my own creation. Not like this. Nothing like this.

I walk back into the kitchen, where Dom is nodding his head in time to the beat of the music from his iPod speakers while draining the water from a pan of rice. I check on Daisy, who’s still asleep, and I drink in the sight of her, grateful that she’s here. I could stare at her perfect face all night, but eventually I pull my gaze away, sit at the table and reach for my phone. I tap in a search for baby monitors picking up other signals. A whole screed of results appears – mainly old forum posts from 2010 to 2013. It seems it was quite a common occurrence with older monitors.

‘Dom.’

‘Everything okay?’ He lowers the volume on the speakers and turns to me, one eyebrow raised.

‘It says here that the older-style monitors can pick up other monitors’ signals.’ I turn my phone screen towards him, but he doesn’t look at it.

‘You’re gonna drive yourself mad worrying about it,’ Dom says. ‘I know you heard something that creeped you out, but there could be a simple explanation.’

‘Like what?’ I fold my arms across my chest, starting to feel irritated by his lack of concern.

‘Don’t look like that,’ he says. ‘I’m not saying you didn’t hear it. I’m just saying there could be an innocent explanation. I’m trying to reassure you.’

‘Like what?’ I repeat. ‘What could be the innocent explanation?’

‘Like… you heard someone else’s TV programme. Or you misheard the actual words.’

‘I know what I heard.’

‘Okay, say you did hear what you heard. It was someone else’s house. It wasn’t here. No one was trying to take Daisy.’

‘That doesn’t make it okay.’

‘No, I know. I know. Sorry. Maybe they were saying it innocently, like let’s take the baby to mum’s house, or let’s take the baby for a walk.’

‘It wasn’t anything like that. It was scary.’

‘What do you want to do about it?’ Dom asks, setting his wooden spoon down on the worktop.

‘I don’t know. Be on our guard I suppose. Keep a look out. Don’t let Daisy out of our sight.’

‘Okay. We can do that.’

I know I sound paranoid, but he wasn’t the one who heard those voices. If he had, I’m sure he would be just as frightened. That voice creeped me out. I keep hearing it in my mind over and over. Quick, let’s just take the baby now and go. Who was it? And what did they do?