My phone trilled and, spotting the name on screen, I grinned.
‘Hello, son!’ I said, picking it up.
‘Hi, Mum,’ he chimed.
It was 8 April 2017, and Barry, 33, was going to a car meet later that day. He lived round the corner with his dad – my ex-husband William, 59.
But he always checked in.
About midnight, I heard loud banging on the front door ‘Have a good day,’ I said. ‘See you for Sunday lunch tomorrow.’
‘Bye, Mum,’ he replied, hanging up.
Barry and his younger brother Stephen, 28, had always been car mad.
‘I want a Subaru, Mum,’ Barry had announced when he passed his test at 17. And when he’d finally saved enough to buy one, it was his pride and joy.
He loved going…
