Prepping dinner, as it hit 6pm, I picked up my phone.
‘Hi Daniel,’ I said, as my son answered, making his way back home from work.
With a very close relationship, despite being a little bit of a difficult teen with a forceful personality, Daniel, then 29, had turned into a really lovely adult.
Settling down and tying the knot, he had a great group of friends around him and I’d often find out what he was up to every other day at 6pm – our designated phone call time.
Staying in Linlithgow, Scotland, after me and my husband Andrew, now 61, decided to move to Berkshire in 2006 with our youngest son Sam, now 33, Daniel was really making a life for himself, just like our eldest son, Steven, now 38.
‘I’ve got the flat, Mum,’ Daniel announced, in a really positive mood.
‘I knew it would all work out,’ I hushed, pleased that everything was going well.
Wanting to go into the same industry that