I was chasing a football around the back garden when my dad, David, then 29, threw open the back door.
‘Tea time,’ he called.
It was 1999, I was 4.
Dad and Mum split when I was a baby and she lived across town.
I visited her sometimes but mostly, I was with Dad.
I was a carefree kid and Dad gave me freedom to play, but made sure I was clean and well fed.
And that evening, after wolfing down fish fingers and chips, I snuggled on the sofa to watch cartoons before bed.
‘Go brush your teeth,’ Dad said a short while later.
Nodding, I climbed the stairs before
