TRUE-LIFE
My shoulders sagged with relief when my husband Nick, then 30, finally burst through the front door.
‘At last!’ I cried, bending over as another pain coursed through my bump.
It was July 2022, and by the time I'd got hold of Nick, I'd been in labour for hours.
He'd been working as a gas engineer nearby with no phone signal.
‘She's 12 weeks early,’ I cried, panicking.
At that moment, my mum Kay, then 69, arrived. ‘Go,’ she shouted, holding the little hands of our sons Lincoln, then 4, and Logan, 2, on the driveway as I got in the car.
‘I'll be home soon,’ I promised the boys.
