NOT ON MY WATCH
As the doorbell rang, my daughter Thea, then eight, raced to open it, skidding across the hallway floor in her socks.
‘It’s Nana!’ she squealed excitedly, as my mum Cheryl, now 52, walked in.
‘Hello everyone,’ Mum smiled as she walked into the kitchen carrying two large plastic bags.
‘What have you got there, Mum?’ I asked.
‘Chinese takeaway,’ she grinned. ‘I thought I’d treat you all tonight.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ I smiled, as the smell of sweet and sour wafted up my nose. ‘You really didn’t have to.’
It was a Friday night in July 2018, and a takeaway was just what we needed.
My husband Tom, 30, and I had our hands full with Thea and our newborn son Artie.
Mum was always on hand to help out, and I was so grateful.
She and I had always been incredibly
