Disappearing act

Shortly after that, Jeff travelled overseas for a week. He said that when he returned, we could move into our new home. That day was the last time I saw my husband.

When he didn't call or return home after a week, I worried that something had happened to him.

When I rang his mobile phone, I was shocked to discover that the line had been disconnected.

I panicked and started calling up his family and friends, but nobody knew where he was.

Some of them were surprised to hear that he had a business overseas - Jeff had never told them about it.

Fearing the worst, I cried myself to sleep every night for six months. 

I considered making a police report but talked myself out of it - what if I reported him missing and he came home eventually?

To make things worse, the children and I had to move out of our flat, with nothing but the clothes on our backs and whatever else I could squeeze into two big suitcases.

I had to leave my furniture and appliances behind - some were bought over by the flat's new owners; I asked them to give or throw away the rest. 

For about a month, my children and I slept in a tent along the beach before I finally found the courage to ask a friend for help.

She allowed us to stay with her in her tiny apartment while I figured out my next move.