TRUE-LIFE
The ceiling shook as my sons Danny, then 9, Tommy, 8, and Georgie, 5, thundered round the house playing hide and seek.
‘Careful!’ I called up the stairs.
‘Alright, Mum,’ Tommy giggled, racing off to find his brothers.
It was June 2002, and being a single mum of three boisterous boys was full on.
But I loved it.
Every night, we’d have tea together, talk about our day.
‘You can come to me about anything,’ I’d tell Danny and Tommy.
‘Yes, Mum,’ they’d chime, sharing an eye roll.
Yet one afternoon in May 2010, when he was 16, Tommy called me from the school bus.
‘I’ve got something to tell you…’ he said, voice shaking.
