We were engulfed in orange flames in a flash fireball As I tucked my beautiful six-month-old daughter, Lexie, into her cot, I thanked my lucky stars she was alive.
I was eight months pregnant, when my husband Dave, 33, and I feared we might have lost her.
It was like something out of a nightmare, only it was very real.
That sunny Saturday, in August 2012, started out like any other.
We woke up and had breakfast with my daughter from a previous relationship, Courtney, 12, before getting ready to head over to Dave’s parent’s house in Bristol.
They were hosting a garden party for Dave’s sister, Claire, who was turning 27 and all of our friends and family were gathering to celebrate.
One of the first to arrive, we…
