Denise Goldin, 77
S erving up his favourite chicken soup, I couldn’t have been prouder of my son Brett, 28.
‘I got a standing ovation!’ he grinned.
‘I’ve always known you were a star!’ I said.
It was April 2006, and Brett had just performed Hamlet in Cape Town.
He’d grown up wanting to be an actor, and I’d been his biggest fan since he’d performed in the school play.
I’d go to see him on stage whenever I could.
But this time I’d stayed back at his flat, so he could come home to a hot meal.
It was just the two of us. I’d made
