My sister Stephanie came tumbling out of a rubber tunnel, with her hair in her face.
‘You’re having more fun than the kids!’ I laughed.
Just then, my daughter Lilly, then 7, and son Oliver, 3, ran up behind her and pulled her back into the ball pit.
It was April 2022 and Steph, then 39, was visiting for the weekend from London, where she worked as a cargo agent at Heathrow airport.
My kids were having the best time at the soft play with their beloved Auntie Steph.
All kids loved her in fact, and I knew she was going to be a great mum one day.
She’d grown up playing mummy to her dolls, always wanted kids of her own.
Only, none of her relationships ever seemed to stick.
‘You just haven’t met the right man yet,’ I told her.
Nine years older than me, I’d always looked up to her.
She was
