BETRAYED TRUST

Packing cling-filmed sandwiches into a lunchbox along with crisps, fruit and other snacks, I went to the foot of the stairs.

‘Tom!’ I called up. ‘Come on, it’s time to get up.’

Heading back into the kitchen, I stuck the kettle on.

But by the time I’d made my cuppa, Tom still hadn’t got out of bed.

Running upstairs and into his bedroom, I gently nudged him as he groaned.

‘Come on, Ben will be here to pick you up soon,’ I said.

Tom, 19, had started a roofing apprenticeship six months earlier.

He loved it, but he wasn’t a morning person, and he hated the early starts!

Tom thundered down the stairs, pulling his coat on, just as his boss Benjamin Norman beeped his horn.

Tom didn’t have his