A nation shares the grief of 'people like us' in their loss

They are the epitome of Middle England, and over the two weeks in which the anguish of Leslie and Sharon Chapman and Kevin and Nicola Wells has been played out, we have come to feel that these "ordinary, decent" couples, as a Cambridgeshire policeman described them, are people we might know.

Soham lies in the heart of the Cambridgeshire fens. There is little unemployment among its 8,700 inhabitants, and life revolves at a relaxed pace around its schools, sports centre, church, shops and a handful of pubs. Crime is not unknown, but the 58 instances reported in May did not represent a huge amount, according to PC Kevin Humble, the town's community officer.

At 51, Mr Chapman was able to enjoy the rewards of following a steady career, remaining in familiar surrounds and, with his wife, bringing up Jessica and her two older sisters Rebecca, 16, and Alison, 14. They live in a smart four-bedroom home, and Mr Chapman was due to start a new job as a factory engineer just as Jessica went missing. Jessica's mother, 43, works as a learning-support assistant at St Andrew's Church of England Primary School, where Jessica and Holly were classmates.

The Wellses are a family in much the same mould. Mr Wells, 38, runs a contract-cleaning business, on the proceeds of which he and his family – they also have a 12-year- old son, Oliver – had just been able to move into their own new four-bedroom house. But it is in their leisure pursuits and daily routines that the families' lives touch us most closely. Mr Wells captains the local cricket team; Holly and Jessica, David Beckham fans, were due to take part in a Junior Superstars competition at the sports centre the week they disappeared.

And what could speak more eloquently of the seasonal pleasures enjoyed by millions than the Sunday afternoon barbecue the Wellses held a fortnight ago, from which the two 10-year-olds slipped away to play on Holly's computer? It was when guests at the barbecue remarked on how quiet the girls were that Holly's parents went to her bedroom and found it empty.

Within a day or so pictures of the two little girls, who were previously known only to their families and immediate area, had become the most haunting images of the year. And, again, it was the normality of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman that struck the most poignant note.

Both – the youngest in their respective families – were repeatedly described as bubbly, thoughtful, sensible girls. Holly was the outgoing feminine one who loved to sing, dance and draw. Jessica, the more inquisitive of the two, was the tomboy – always in trousers and an avid swimmer and footballer.

Both girls had been pupils in Year Five's class 12 at St Andrew's Church of England School. Enthusiastic and bright, they were often the first to put up their hands in class and were popular with teachers and classmates alike.

Opposites in many ways – Jessica enjoyed her sports while Holly was a majorette and played the cornet – the girls worked as a team. When Jessica missed the last week of school term, Holly remembered to take all her possessions home for her. Just over a week later they were gleefully reunited – for one last happy day.

The families had often had those conversations that all sensible parents have with their young daughters.

Mr Wells and his wife kept a close eye on Holly, aware of the potential dangers of modern life. They warned her against speaking to strangers and to check her mobile text messages.

Mr Wells said: "We were drumming it into them that you never talk to strangers, don't go in anybody's car or anything. I personally can specifically remember mentioning on the lines that 'you have a lot of friends and family here around you but you must be aware that not everyone carries that agenda'.''

Jessica was close to her mother, never afraid to tell her when she had a problem. And she was forbidden from wandering off on her own, unless she was going round to Holly's house.

"She's a bright child,'' her mother explained. "I think the teacher says she's above average. I would say she was above average.

"She likes school but she also liked the social side of it, I think probably more because she was always getting into trouble for opening her mouth,'' Mrs Chapman said during one of the many appeals they put out to try to find their daughter.

Her husband added: "We had told her the obvious things that all parents tell their children. Not to take sweets off strangers, not to get in cars – unless you know the person. It's a family thing – it's what every family would tell any child of their own.''

When they realised both girls were missing, both the Wellses and the Chapmans were sure they might have gone to the local shops on their own, or round to each other's houses, but no further. So from the moment Mrs Wells rang Mrs Chapman at 8.30 that Sunday evening to ask whether the girls were there, she knew something was very wrong.

Mrs Chapman rang Jessica's mobile straight away.

"I panicked from there on, because I knew that wasn't like Jessica," she said. "That's when the alarm bells started going in both families," said Mr Chapman.

Mr and Mrs Chapman set off to find the girls in separate cars and, Mr Chapman said, "because it's such a small community I bumped into Kevin [Wells] on – I think – two occasions and said: 'Right, well, if you're going there, I'll go here'.''

By the following day, with a huge police manhunt now under way, Kevin Wells took on the unimaginably awful task of joining 500 people who scoured fenland fields and ditches in the hope of finding Holly and Jessica alive and well. "We have had friends and family searching in ditches, in rivers, looking for the shallow graves of our children," he said. "It doesn't get any more difficult than that."

Then there were the ordeals of the inevitable police press conference, the desperate pleas for whoever had the girls to return them safely. "They're not yours. They're ours. We want them back."

They attended morning service at St Andrew's last Sunday, members of a congregation three times its normal size. They had to sit with police through a private screening of the CCTV footage that provided the last sighting of the children as they walked across a car park. They faced the worst when two mounds of earth that looked as if they might be shallow graves were discovered in woods in Newmarket, and they experience renewed hope when the mounds turned out to be badgers' setts.

At their last press conference, on Friday, Mrs Chapman spoke of what she had been through.

"Time doesn't mean anything any more," she said. "It all rolls into one. Hours and days just seem to roll into one. Before you know it, it's dark."

Mr Wells echoed what Mrs Chapman said. "It's surreal. The days have blended into one another."

Both Mrs Chapman and Mrs Wells appeared numb. Unlike at previous appearances they had made, there were no tears. "The noise level in my house is so quiet," Mrs Chapman said. "Even though there are lots of people coming in and out, it's so quiet."