Hearing the welcome glug of red wine hitting the glasses, I smiled at my husband. Here's to the weekend, I sighed to Darren, then 44, sinking into the sofa.
Just as I was taking my first sip, our youngest daughter Lyla, then 16, poked her head around the living-room door.
I'm going out,' she grinned.
It was March 2022 and while I was looking forward to a night in, Lyla couldn't wait to go out with college friends.
I wanted her to enjoy herself, but as a mother to three girls, I worried constantly about their safety.
Even with my older two, Sarah*, then 24, and Laura*, 22, I was always reminding them to check in.
At midnight, I went to bed, expecting Lyla home any minute.
But several hours later, I bolted upright to the sound of her screaming. Yet the house was silent. Was it just a bad dream? EI checked the clock - 5am.
I went to look in Lyla's room, but it was still empty.
There were no messages on my phone, no movement on the front-door camera.
I called Lyla's mobile, but after a few rings, it went to voicemail.
'What's the matter?' Darren croaked, waking up.
'I thought I heard Lyla screaming, but she's not home,' I replied, struggling to contain my panic.
Picking up his phone, Darren tried her number again. And again. And again. Eventually, a man answered.
'Who are you?' Darren quizzed.
The man said he was a taxi driver. Lyla had left her phone in his car when he'd dropped her at an address in Hindley, 15 minutes earlier.
More than 20 minutes from our house.
'We don't know anyone who lives there,' I thought, my chest constricting with fear.
The man's next words made my blood run cold.
'She wasn't in a good way,' the driver said. "She couldn't walk. A man had to carry her in and out of the car.
Darren's eyes locked with mine as terrified as I felt.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der September 25, 2023-Ausgabe von WOMAN'S OWN.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der September 25, 2023-Ausgabe von WOMAN'S OWN.
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