A bright, loving business owner, Carl’s life was about to change forever...
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Every mum thinks their son is good as gold. And I was no different. My Carl, now 30, had it all. Hard-working and bright, he had loads of pals and his own flat near mine and his dad Gary’s home in Farnborough, Hampshire.
He owned his own digging company, too.
Even in the dead of winter – with rain hammering down on the roof – he’d be outside. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ I’d tell him. Overalls on, swigging a cuppa, he was full of life. A Royal Marine as a lad, fitness was important to Carl. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ I’d remark, as he pulled on his trainers for a five-mile run. ‘Easy as pie,’ he’d scoff. Home-loving, too, thinking back to the winter of 2014, I remember how he loved visiting me and Gary, 57. As the wind howled outside, he’d be wrapped in a fleecy blanket, telling us, ‘I love being with you lot.’ He even came over that New Year’s Eve. ‘Hanging with the oldies,’ he said, sniggering. But his phone was constantly buzzing. You’re missing a great night down the pub. Eventually, he relented. ‘I’m off out, Mum and Dad,’ he said. ‘Won’t be a heavy one, though.’ At midnight he phoned. ‘Happy New Year Mum,’ he yelled. ‘Love you
We had always brought the kids up to be antidrugs