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It's probably too late to say goodbye, six years on. I'm not even sure that there's any point in doing it. Much as I would love to believe he's able to hear me, and understand that I'm sorry, I'm just too cynical and world-weary to allow myself any comfort from it. Anyway, why should I require comfort? He's been dead six years. We weren't even a couple by then. I've got no right to feel bereaved; I was the one who ended the relationship two years before his death and moved on, fresh start, happy now, tra-la-la. I'm not involved. He was just someone I knew, once upon a time.

You see, I try to convince myself of that. Of course it works for a while. Other people who know the story say things like, "You shouldn't beat yourself up about it, you weren't to know", or, "You were young, I'm sure he didn't hate you in the end", and I nod my head, and shrug my shoulders, and admit that I'm just being silly, but all the while that phone call from the police six years ago replays itself in my head, like the lyrics of some hatefully catchy song.

"We're investigating the disappearance of a Ben Paulson, Miss Garner, and believe you may be able to offer us some information to help with our enquiries."

I already knew he was missing, by this point. It had been reported in the local newspaper a few days before. Actually, he didn't live locally anymore - he'd moved hundreds of miles away a few months earlier - but I guess they reported it in the town Herald just in case he'd turned up back here. Perhaps the newspaper article hadn't quite sunk in by the time the phone call came, but I honestly don't remember being particularly worried by it.

"Okay," I said, as pleasantly as I could, but with the weird, unprovoked nervousness that accompanies any response to a police enquiry.

"Miss Garner, Mr Paulson was reported missing five days ago, and we wondered if he'd been in contact with you at all. When did you last hear from him?"

That was when a cold chill ran down my spine. In contact with me? Why in the name of God would he have been in touch with me? The last text message I had from him had been over six months ago, and it wasn't a particularly friendly one either. In fact, it was a heated expulsion, telling me that he was a million times happier with his new girlfriend than he had ever been with me. At the time, it felt more like he was trying to convince himself than me, but I didn't care either way. I was relieved he'd finally moved on. I'd been in a new relationship for ages. I'd tried

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