TRUE-LIFE
As I got ready for bed, the phone started to ring.
It was about 10pm one night in August 2007, and I knew who it’d be.
My son Jake, then 7, asking to be picked up from his pal’s sleepover.
Each time it was the same.
‘Mum, I’m poorly, will you come and get me?’ he said now.
I knew he was just homesick, but I went to get him straight away.
A mummy’s boy, Jake was always by my side.
Preferring to spend time with his family, including his older sister Bethany, then 9.