OUR BIG ADVENTURE

As he walked through the front door, I gave my husband Andre a big hug.

‘Well, how was it?’ I asked.

‘Oh, you know,’ he said solemnly, setting his suitcase to one side.

It was December 2016, and Andre, 45, had just returned to our home in Cape Town, South Africa, after a trip to London.

But he hadn’t gone for a holiday - one of his old mates had sadly passed away from a brain tumour, and Andre had gone to say goodbye.

He was understandably quite upset, but later that evening, sat around the dinner table with our kids Rico, then 10, and Tiana-Mae, eight, Andre was back to his cheerful self.

The following day, though, after work, he seemed low.

‘I’ve just