Touching down in the blistering heat with my girl gang, I was ready for the holiday we had ahead of us.
Getting together for a hen do in Majorca, in May last year, there were at least 12 of us celebrating before my friend was due to get married.
Knowing that we were going to have the best time, especially as we hadn’t really been able to get away due to Covid, spending a few days together was great.
‘You’ve got a letter, I think it’s from uni, can I open it?’ my mum Sue, now 56, called on the last day of my sunny holiday.
‘Yeah go on,’ I said, knowing it wasn’t important.
Having left home a few years before, letters would still go to my mum’s address – and being open as a family, we’d always tell one another everything – so opening a letter was the least of my worries.
Only, getting back home, at the beginning of June, I
