Missing RAF man Corrie McKeague

Ask any parent their worst nightmare, and it's anything happening to their kids.

Even as we get older, our mums still like to know that we are safe, like to get text when we land - as if aeroplanes were some kind of crazy theme park ride - or a quick ring when we get home, picturing you safe in your kitchen.

But in truth, there is a bigger fear we face.

The terrible thought that something might happen to your child and you would never know what had happened, where they had gone.

No gentle explanation from a doctor.

No heart-stopping moment you see a policeman in the middle of the night at your door.

Not even the quiet dignity of a body for you to tuck up tight, safe in the ground.

And for the mother of Corrie McKeague, the RAF airman who vanished into thin air in September, this fear is now her life - every day, every minute, of every hour of every day.

She herself is a Police Constable based in Scotland and has been critical of Suffolk Police and their handling of this investigation, frustrated her son is still not found.

If it were my child missing I wonder if anyone could ever work hard enough in my eyes?

How much patience would I have?

How would I feel if they took a break from his case or went on holiday?

The family hired a private detective, paid for by a Crowdfunding appeal, money given readily by those who share this unspoken fear we share.

His desperate grandparents offering a reward just for some news, any news.

Still nothing.

Acting Chief Superintendent Kim Warner of Suffolk Police speaks alongside mother of missing 23-year-old Corrie McKeague, Nicola Urquhart and his brothers Darroch and Makeyan McKeague

April Oliver, 21, girlfriend of missing 23-year-old Corrie McKeague (right)

Missing Corrie McKeague, who has not been seen since disappearing in September last year

One night he was out in a club, smartly dressed, having a laugh with mates.

Then, at 3.25am his shadowy outline on the CCTV cameras faded into the gloom, for good.

I had been aware of Corrie for a while.

Seen his picture on Twitter.

I'd been asked to retweet it, to help find Corrie.

Initially his disappearance was linked with the attempted snatch of another RAF lad near his base.

Even in October, his mother confirmed a jihadi kidnap plot was not being ruled out.

And usually, I'd be right there, leading the outrage at attacks on one of our own.

Calling out terror, demanding to know if this was an attack on the best of British.

But something was never quite right.

Something never added up.

I never retweeted.

Never spoke about Corrie.

Asking his family to get in touch on email privately instead.

Trying to work out what was bothering me.

Others felt it too.

'He's either done something really b****y stupid or he owes someone serious cash', Mr McKeague's friends have said

I spoke to my military mates - and they said the same.

Something was not quite right.

'He's either done something really b****y stupid or he owes someone serious cash'.

An RAF gunner brought up on rules and order, used to following chain of command, doing as instructed.

Without question.

Sometimes hating the rule book, but always loving life with the lads.

Keeping their heads down, avoiding trouble, taking extra duties when caught.

A world away from civvie street.

And then just disappearing.

It made no sense.

Not the story.

Or the images we saw.

No fight outside the club, no swaggering drunk followed by a slow car.

But the puzzle is starting to come together.

Corrie McKeague's Fab Swingers Account (right) which he listed adult parties, spanking and threesomes as things he liked to do and is Plenty of Fish account (left)

It turns out Corrie McKeague was a prolific user of online dating sites, looking for casual sex.

He had a Fab Swingers Account listing adult parties, spanking and threesomes as things he liked to do.

At this point, some of you will have already washed your hands of Corrie, like bad smell, case closed.

But at a recent Q&A session, his mum talked frankly about his decisions.

'He makes choices others might not.

'Would he go to a strangers house that he met on a dating site? Yes.

'Would he get into a strangers car? Yes'.

She describes him as a social hand grenade.

On the Find Corrie account she wrote about her son, being young and enjoying himself.

'To the haters, get over it. This is none of your business'.

I can only imagine what she is dealing with.

Some love the misery of others and dwell on it like bottom-feeders, hoovering up the detritus of others' lives as currency to use at their next gossip session at the hairdressers.

But Nicola, you made it other people's business - you put this fight out there in the public domain, criticising the police enquiry, fanning jihadi flames as the officers tried to quell them,

Crowd-funding for help, talking online about your son's private life, answering questions from random strangers about your child's sex life.

Nicola Urquhart, mother of the missing RAF gunner Corrie McKeague

You filled people up with the sordid details with his own brother drawn into a row over whether Corrie was gay, arguing 'I cannot even say how much I stress he was not'.

This is not a conversation you need to have.

Having his swingers page splashed all over the papers does not help find Corrie.

Because none of that matters.

Not one bit.

Or what he got up to in his life online (beyond how it may assist the police with their inquiries).

I hate the fact I am now expecting the worst.

Before I had a little hope, like a good luck charm in my pocket.

Maybe he had money troubles.

Maybe he's hiding.

Maybe.

But I am sad to look in that pocket now and find that lucky charm has gone.

Replaced by sadness at bad news to come.

Specialist police dogs used to find bodies have been brought into Bury St Edmunds.

Part of me, strangely, hopes they find him.

I hope they can bring his mother the small shred of comfort of knowing what happened to her big, brave son.

Most of all, I hope they can bring Corrie home, one way or another.