15 AND PREGNANT WITH DAD' S BABY
Standing in the doorway of the living room, my dad Bernard beamed at me, a suitcase in each hand. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘This is the trip of a lifetime.’ Aged 11, I scrambled off the sofa in excitement as Dad explained he was taking me for a six-week holiday to Kenya. ‘You’ll be able to go on safari, see all the animals,’ he grinned.
My parents had split when I was young, and Dad worked all over the world as a university lecturer. I lived with Mum in a cramped council house in Leeds, West Yorkshire, but now, in July 1976, Dad had turned up at the door, tanned, smiling and wearing a smart suit, telling me he was taking me away. We’d be back for school in September, he promised Mum, who agreed I could
