Watching Mum pack up a bag with leftover sandwiches, I felt my stomach sink.
‘Do we have to go home?’ I asked my mum, Denise.
‘It’s getting dark, love,’ Mum said, helping me put my coat on as we left the park. ‘And I’ve got to get ready for work.’
Mum worked nights as a cleaner, leaving our dad David to look after me and my little brother, also David. Dad never came to the park with us – he’d always be at the pub or lazing in front of the TV instead.
But I was glad – weekends spent at the park with Mum, laughing and playing all day long, were my favourite times.
I hated spending any time with Dad. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but I’d always felt a bit wary of him – he gave me the creeps.
Back at home, I could see him slobbed
