Pop music blared out from my daughter Nicole’s bedroom. Then suddenly... ‘Muuuum!’ she screeched.
‘Lee, stop annoying your sister,’ I said, rolling my eyes as he fled Nicole’s room giggling.
It was September 2015. Nicole had just turned 18 and was getting ready for her first night out.
Lee, then 10, was my youngest, then Dean, 15.
Nicole, who we called Coco, had always been a lovely girl.
Sweet, clever, feisty.
And although her brothers annoyed her, she adored them.
It was a happy, lively home.
‘You look beautiful,’ I beamed when Nicole emerged.
She’d curled her hair, put on a pretty dress.
‘Will you take my picture?’ she grinned. .
My girl, all grown up.
After that, like any 18-year-old, weekend nights out became a regular thing.
I’d pick…
