“Sasha, from Maidstone, Kent, was last seen on Saturday…” That’s how it went, “last seen on Saturday, September 8, after leaving a friend’s house at around 11. The 17-year-old brunette was caught on CCTV walking towards home, down Union Street.” On Saturday, September 8. That was seven years ago. What happened next? We still don’t know.

“A petite brunette”, all the papers called her. But Sasha was blonde and though perhaps not tall, there was nothing small or petite about Sasha. When she spoke her words crashed down upon you. You could pick out her laugh all the way across town. She had a mole on her left cheek she used to call Gary. He sat above her dimple and danced when she laughed. When she laughed – we used to joke she’d cause an earthquake with that laugh. Or at least tinnitus. You could always hear her at the back of the bus. Holding court. I taught her what that phrase means. Wherever she is now, it must be very far away. For I haven’t heard her laugh since that Saturday. Since that Saturday, September 8.