TRUE-LIFE
As my family walked along the beach, I trailed behind.
My stepdad, Richard, then 30, looked over his shoulder.
‘Come on, sweetie,’ he smiled, reaching to take my hand.
It was 1992, and we were enjoying a family holiday in Cornwall.
Aged 10, I absolutely loved my new stepdad.
He’d only been in our lives for a year.
My mum, then 30, and my biological dad split when I was a baby.
Richard was the father I never had.
Always attentive and loving to Mum.
Caring towards me.
Never shied away from cuddles, either.
But over time, he became more touchy-feely, always tickling me or play fighting.
Then one day in 1996, when I was 14, I was home alone with Richard.
