THROUGH THE GLASS

As I got to work washing the dirty dishes, I heard the jingling of keys and looked up.

My son Tom Bell, 21, was grabbing them off the kitchen table on his way out.

‘Where are you off to?’ I asked him.

‘Just down to the Maple Tree for the pub quiz,’ he said, before kissing me on the cheek and heading out the front door.

Tom had many friends and was always out and about with them – it was hard to keep track of all his plans.

He still lived at home, and he and I were very close.

Ever since he was a little boy, Tom would have done anything for his family, including helping me take care of his siblings.

My daughter Charity, 18, still lived