‘He was lurking around, trying to catch me on my own’ ‘We carried the burden of his dark secret for so long’ Arriving at my nan’s house, my big sister Helen, 11, and I ran up and hugged her. ‘Hi, Roy,’ we smiled politely, seeing her husband Roy Glazebrook, 60.
‘He’s your grandad and you should call him that,’ our nan Alma insisted.
‘Sorry, Nan,’ we mumbled.
Our mum Colleen’s dad had died when she was just 11, and Nan had married Roy.
But although he’d always been there, we were so used to Mum calling him Roy, we’d slipped into the habit, too.
It didn’t help that we found him odd. He’d interrupt chats to bore on about computers or his beloved CB radio.
At family gatherings, he’d say…
