Squeezing a splodge of hair gel onto my almost father-in-law’s comb, I stood back and grinned.
This was going to be the happiest day of my life.
Gently spreading the gel through Alan’s hair, I parted his locks into a stylish, grey do.
‘You scrub up well,’ I smiled at Alan. ‘You look perfect for my wedding day.’
‘I might even pull tonight,’ Alan, 84, grinned back.
Chuckling, I gelled back the last of his hair before heading off downstairs.
Popping some sandwiches, crisps and fruit into a lunchbox, I handed the bag over to Alan.
‘Make sure you eat this today,’ I told him sternly.
‘I will,’ he promised.
Alan then left the house with the other groomsmen so I could get ready for my upcoming nuptials with my bridesmaids upstairs.
You see, my fiancé Shaun, 56, me and my two children Leah, 16, and Lucas, 13, had moved into Alan’s home to take care of him.
Living in his two-up-two-down was a
