Searching has become my way of life. It started on a wet evening in November four years ago. Sally had not returned from school, at first neither my wife nor I were unduly worried. Sally was a typical teenager always apologising when we told her off for not phoning or texting. Perhaps I had been too harsh the previous evening threatening to ground her.

‘Something has happened to her,’ Mary said anxiously.

'Or trying to punish us,' I muttered. ‘I’ll get the car out and drive to town; she may be waiting for the bus.’ I wasn’t sure why I said this but it seemed to calm Mary. I called in at Sally’s best friend, Emily, hoping she was there.

‘Sorry Mr Collins, Sally left school the same time as myself. We chatted at the school gate and she said she was meeting someone in the market square.’

‘Thanks,’ I said and walked back to the car. Who the hell was she meeting? She’s never mentioned boyfriends. I phoned my wife who explained through sobs that there was no sign of Sally.

This could not be happening; you read of other kids going missing but you never imagine yours could be next.

The police gave up the search after two months. All we have are the memories of our dear daughter. It’s her birthday today, if only I could turn back time and tell her I love her.