A trusted friend TURNED KILLER

Pointing at a letter amongst the post on the side table, my three-year-old son, James, started giggling. ‘Mummy, it’s Nanny,’ he shouted, gleefully. ‘What do you mean?’ I quizzed. Scanning the letter closer, I realised James was looking at the stamp, and he thought the Queen was my mum, Rosina Coleman.

I roared with laughter because, with the same grey perm, my mum did resemble the Queen. Mum's nickname stuck and fast-forward three decades to Christmas Day 2017, James, then 34, was still teasing her. ‘You’re the head of the family, Nan, our monarch,’ he ribbed, as three of her five grandchildren and six of her eight great-grandchildren gathered around her for a photo.