When I received the call I was at work, it was a Friday morning. My partner made the call, he didn’t want to tell me, he just told me to come home, pleaded with me to come home. Now when someone tells you to come home, it’s not rocket science to guess something is seriously wrong. I pushed, really pushed him, to tell me, he held out but I am one determined woman and he cracked. My son had been involved in a fatal accident.
I left work. I drove the 4 miles home. In hindsight I probably shouldn’t of, but hindsight is a great thing. I do remember the journey even though I was probably going into shock. I remember thinking that there had been a massive mistake, the police had got it wrong. I shouted at God that he couldn’t do this to me, that this shouldn’t happen to a mother.
I didn’t speed, I drove normally, I was convinced that somehow that this was wrong and when I got home I would be able to sort it out!