Cheryl, 47, Hertfordshire
As the doorbell chimed, I rolled my eyes.
‘David’s here,’ I groaned.
‘Be nice,’ my dad, then 36, laughed as he walked towards the door.
It was February 1981 and we’d been expecting the monthly visit from some of the family.
My dad’s brother, then 28, and his son, my cousin, David, then 8.
As Dad greeted my uncle, David yanked my ponytail.
‘Get off,’ I shrieked, running away.
Each month, my cousin David and I would playfight or watch TV while our parents nattered away.
Only, six years later, David’s mum died suddenly.
Our family was devastated.
Even more so when we discovered that David and my uncle were moving 40 miles away.
He may have been my annoying little cousin, but I’d miss him dearly.…
