Amy had been gone for three days and I’d not heard a word from her. Nothing, nada, nil. I simply didn’t understand what had gone wrong.

Friday we spent the day in bed together, laughing and fucking and eating chocolate.

Saturday we went to the coast for the day. Fish and chips on the sea wall, paddling in the frothy surf and a proposal of marriage. After five blissful years together, I knew she’d say yes.

Sunday we visited her parents and she showed off the rock I’d spent at least a month’s salary on. They seemed bemused but happy for her, though I did notice her mother do that ‘round the loop’ gesture and I wondered what they’d say to her when they got her on her own.

And then Monday she disappeared. She left the house at her usual time, waving up at me as she got into the car, and that was the last time I saw her. I assumed she was at work but when I peeped into her office later that day, her desk was empty.

Today was Thursday and I was beginning to worry. It wasn’t unusual for her to stay overnight with friends. Sometimes she got busy, got distracted with “real life”, as she called it, but to be away so long was unheard of.

I paced around the house, unsure of what to do with myself, cursing myself for becoming so dependent on her. Sometimes it seemed like my entire existence relied on her believing in me and if she wasn’t here to do that, where did that leave me? I shuddered at the thought.

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t checked her wardrobe. I threw open the doors to find it empty, bar a single summer dress lying forlornly in a pool of colourful cotton at the bottom.

Heart in mouth, I glanced behind me, under the bed, hoping to see the bright blue suitcase Amy always took on holidays. But that was gone.

And when I opened the safe where I’d been keeping the cash I won on the horses, the cash I intended to spend on our wedding, that was gone too.