Carefully carrying a tray of drinks from the bar, I placed them down on the table.
Passing them round to my mum Sharon and sisters Kelly, now 41, and Vicki, 38, I raised my glass.
‘Cheers!’ I smiled, as we all clinked our Pornstar martinis.
We had reason to celebrate.
Mum had just been given the all-clear from breast cancer back in 2017, after five years in remission – she fought it like a trooper, never once losing her positivity or sparkle.
After a year of treatment in 2012, including chemotherapy, radiotherapy and a lumpectomy, she was doing well – and after five years of yearly check-ups, she was officially in the clear.
Mum had been given a second chance and we weren’t going to waste it.
‘Another round?’ I grinned, as Mum drained the last drops of her martini.
‘Go on then,’ she chuckled.
She was the life and soul.
But in March 2020, everything changed with one phone call.
