DYING, MUMMY?

Breaking down, I couldn’t believe that bald, emaciated woman in the mirror was me. ‘Are you crying because you’re dying, Mummy?’ my six-year-old daughter, Molly, asked, giving me a hug. I tried to reassure her I was getting better, but after 12 gruelling weeks of chemo, I couldn’t hide the tears any more.

I met Lee in December 2010, when I was working as a choreographer. We had our son, Jack, now eight, in December 2011, before we got married in July 2013, and I gave birth to Molly, now six, that November. Though we separated in 2015, Lee and I always maintained an amicable relationship. He had the