Pick Me Up!

BUMPY RIDE

Glancing at the kids playing outside, it was a sunny day.

On 3 September last year, it was the last day of the summer holidays. And my son Marli, five, was making the most of it while I cooked dinner.

‘Stay on the street where I can see you,’ I’d told him earlier.

That day we were at my Grandad John’s house with my parents Mandy, 45, and Steven, 49, and my two girls Milli-Mae, eight, and Rayne, one.

‘Tea’s almost done,’ I called out to Marli, checking the chicken Kievs.

‘Not yet Mummy, I’m playing with my friends,’ he begged, pedalling on his Sonic the Hedgehog bike. ‘Can I have five minutes?’

‘Yeah, go on then,’ I smiled at him. ‘Just stay where I can see you.’

In such a small, tight-knit town, I had no worries about Marli playing out.

And Marli

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