Point-blank danger
Jodie Dickinson, 34, Derby
Sliding into the front seat of my black Vauxhall Corsa, I felt a thrill of pleasure.
It was autumn 2014 and, at 27, I’d just passed my driving test.
To celebrate, my boyfriend Tyrone, then 25, had bought me a car.
‘I want you safe,’ he’d smiled, handing me the keys.
I gasped in delight then leant across to kiss him.
Tyrone was a mechanic.
He’d have done a good job making sure the car was safe.
It was all he ever wanted me to be.
We’d met that summer at a mate’s house and hit it off.
But I was
