NONE had held her close, counted her tiny fingers and toes or kissed her little forehead.

Yet 200 of us met at Wolvercote Cemetery on Tuesday to say goodbye to Raihana, the stillborn baby found wrapped in a black bag and hidden in bushes in Marston eight months ago.

She was laid to rest in a tiny white coffin covered by flowers, petals and sprigs of rosemary, surrounded by the graves of other babies who, like her, never saw the sun shine or heard the birds sing.

But Raihana did have ‘family’ to say goodbye, encouraged by Oxford City Council, Thames Valley Police and SANDS, the still birth and neonatal death society.

To mention a few, there were people of all ages from the Oxford area, babies in pushchairs, grandmothers in wheelchairs, families from the West Country, mothers who had suffered the pain and loss of children at birth, and ever-caring, leather-clad bikers from Kent and Newcastle-upon-Tyne who teamed up with local riders.

It would be pointless claiming my cheeks had remained dry. There were too many witnesses to the truth – and I was not the only grandfather to let his feelings show. We were all Raihana’s grandad on Tuesday.

The one person missing was Raihana’s mum. We don’t know why she hasn’t come forward in the past eight months or what pressures she might be under.

We can only believe there is a reason. It is too easy to speculate and criticise.

But perhaps she was there, blending in with the crowd. The optimists among us hoped she was, if not for her baby, for her long-term peace of mind. It cannot be easy.

The brief service was led by humanists but it didn’t prevent the rest of us, including collared clergymen and a nun, from offering our own prayers. The air was filled with almost tangible compassion. The world’s troubles had no place in this corner of Oxford. That most destructive of all four-letter words – ‘hate’ – lost out to ‘love’.

In my mind one person stands out in this moving story – Det Insp Jim Holmes, who from the first led the search for the baby’s mother.

It was he who decided she should not be nameless, but suggested Raihana – which means ‘Heaven’s flower’.

He delivered the graveside eulogy. It was brief but full of feeling. He made a promise to his little friend: the official inquiry might be over, but he would still search for her mother to offer help and sympathy.

If anyone could be said to have assumed a grieving dad’s role, it was this caring officer.