TRAPPED!

Switching off the telly, I sighed to myself. Alone again, I thought.

It was 23 January, and my husband Francesco, 61, had been away all day.

Working as a carer, he often had to do 48-hour shifts.

He’d been gone since 7.30am and was only due back home the following day.

I missed him terribly when he was away, but I was so proud of the work he was doing.

Now, at around 9.30pm, I’d grown bored of the telly.

‘I guess I’ll have an early night,’ I said to myself, heading up to the bedroom.

Slipping into my pyjamas, I decided to listen to some music on my MP3 player to help me fall asleep.

I listened to it most nights, the sounds of Scooter helping me drift off.