My husband David, 66, smiled as he recorded our grandsons David, 18, and Daniel, 16, laughing and joking.
‘Happy Christmas, Nan,’ Daniel smiled, handing me a gift bag.
Inside was a £60 tablet.
‘You shouldn’t have spent your pocket money on me, love,’ I gasped.
‘You do so much for me,’ he smiled. ‘You deserve something nice.’
Hearing that meant more than all the presents in the world.
It was Christmas 2016 and the last few years hadn’t been easy.
Daniel and David had lived with us since 2014, after their parents had split.
At our time of life, looking after teenagers was hard work.
But I loved the very bones of those boys.
Daniel struggled at school and, at 15, he was excluded, but he found a local apprenticeship…