Before I was 4, my childhood memories are vague. The youngest of four girls, I remember being doted on by my family, and I know I was looking forward to starting school.
But, after those first few years, my memories become more vivid and haunting.
My parents had come to England from Uganda in 1972. And, in 1978 we moved to Croydon, where they met Sayeed Shah, who lived three doors down.
An accountant, he’d help my parents with their finances.
I remember Mum and Dad sharing jokes with him, their beaming smiles, and offers for dinner at each other’s houses.
At first, Sayeed barely noticed me. But, as the months went on, he burrowed further into our home and family life, becoming my parents’ friend and confidant.
Soon, he…
