ife had got pretty tough for my mum. She’d left my dad, and we were living in a rundown B&B in Kent.
I was 6. Mum had no job, no money and was desperate to get back on her feet.
Then she met a new bloke, Keith Turner.
‘We’re getting married,’ she beamed, after a two-week, whirlwind romance.
Keith, then 22, seemed friendly and kind. And at least he made Mum smile again. Before long, we were settled in a lovely rented home in Surrey.
We’ve hit the jackpot here, I thought. Keith treated me like his own, made me feel settled, safe. And I enjoyed having a dad figure around again.
Until, one day, we dropped Mum off for an appointment at the job centre.
Keith and I waited…
