Mistletoe and swine

I wasn’t the only Christmas cracker my boyfriend was pulling

- Frances Leate, Hannah Crocker

Cuddling my daughter Shantayah, 3, with one arm and draping the other around me, my boyfriend Jonathan, 30, beamed for the camera.

‘What a lovely photo!’ my mum Claire, then 48, smiled, handing me back my phone.

It was Christmas Eve 2015 and we were staying over at Mum’s house.

We’d just put out a glass of milk and a mince pie for Father Christmas, and a carrot for Rudolph.

‘Let’s get you to bed,’ I said to Shantayah as she leapt around excitedly.

Once she was settled, Jonathan helped me wrap the shiny bike and Minnie Mouse rocking chair we’d bought her.

I’d known Jonathan since our teens, we had mutual friends.

We’d only ever been mates but I’d secretly fancied him for ages.

Gradually, things had changed.

We’d started flirting on Facebook, finally got together in October 2015.

Tall, dark and handsome, with a cheeky smile, Jonathan was gorgeous.

My dream man! Only, six years earlier, he’d been sent to prison for doing something terrible.

He’d stabbed two men during a drunken row.

Truly shocking and awful. I reckoned he’d learnt from his mistakes, though.

And as far as me and my little girl were concerned, Jonathan was our hero.

He took us out for lunch, walks around the park.

Stayed at my place almost every night.

I knew it was quick but we were already like a

Sham could with Chris proper little family.

Shantayah had even started calling him ‘Daddy’.

Sadly, he wasn’t spending Christmas Day with us.

Said he’d already arranged to see his mum, sister and brother instead. Shame.