Humming along to the radio, I leaned back in the passenger seat of the car.
‘Are we there yet?!’ I whined playfully to my then-boyfriend, Kevin, 23.
‘We’ve got an hour to go yet, Gráinne,’ he laughed.
I smiled and opened up a bag of crisps, crunching down on them, joyfully.
Living in Galway with Kevin, I hadn’t been back home to Laois for a long time, and couldn’t wait to make a cuppa and catch up with my parents and five siblings.
After finishing our shifts in a nightclub, we’d decided to get on the road during the early hours to miss the traffic.
It was going to take us at least two hours, so we just wanted to get there.
At 22, I was loving life, but I…
