TOP OF THE frocks
Feb 18, 2020
5 minutes
Words: Jade Beecroft
![chatfateuk2004_article_012_01_01](https://article-imgs.scribdassets.com/5l994sphts7n5ip5/images/file5SGUKG89.jpg)
![chatfateuk2004_article_012_01_02](https://article-imgs.scribdassets.com/5l994sphts7n5ip5/images/fileXD5M9POQ.jpg)
![chatfateuk2004_article_012_01_03](https://article-imgs.scribdassets.com/5l994sphts7n5ip5/images/file2UZDU4HZ.jpg)
![chatfateuk2004_article_012_01_04](https://article-imgs.scribdassets.com/5l994sphts7n5ip5/images/fileM0FTBPCM.jpg)
Ann Glover, 63, from Belfast
My son, Declan, 22, popped his head round the living room door.
‘I’m just popping to the pub for a pint, Mum,’ he said. As usual, he was dressed to the nines in a smart top and jeans. Declan loved to look good. He adored labels like Yves Saint Laurent, Ben Sherman and Nike, spent ages hunting through the rails in TK Maxx for bargain designer clobber.
‘Make sure you’re back before midnight,’ I said. ‘You’ve got work tomorrow. Anyway, you’ll turn into a pumpkin if you don’t!’ ‘Aww Mum,’ he grinned.
‘Anyway I’m not a pumpkin - I’m a chick magnet!’
I smiled back. I wasn’t worried about Declan. A popular lad who loved his boxing, he had
You’re reading a preview, subscribe to read more.
Start your free 30 days