It felt like my family was CURSED

Natalie Cribb, 45, has lost more than most, but won’t let grief hold her back

- MISHAAL KHAN, TRACY GAYTON

Taking my last exhausted step across the finish line, I punched my fists in the air and looked around for my family and friends who were there to support me. Then, with my February 2019 Brighton half-marathon medal around my neck, we went to find a nearby pub. Only, while I felt elated sipping my gin and tonic, my heart also felt heavy. There were three important people missing – my sisters, Yvonne, Jane and Mandy. We should’ve all been together, popping champagne, celebrating Jane’s 50th, too, instead, my family were raising a glass to them and fundraising in their memory.

When I was born in 1974, Yvonne was seven, Jane, five, and Mandy, just three. And when our little sister, Becky, arrived eight years later, the five of us became affectionately known as the ‘Cribb girls’.

Our house in Newhaven was right next to the fire station, where our dad John worked, and while Yvonne had the box room, the rest of us shared – meaning it could get a bit lively at times. Jane would get cross when Mandy borrowed her clothes, and the bathroom rota was a nightmare. But we were a tribe, with Yvonne acting like our second mum, helping our mother, Gill, wash, feed and keep us in line. Jane was the quiet but fiery one, who always sent the Monopoly board flying when she was losing, Mandy was the protector, always the first to stand up to playground bullies, while I sat quietly in the background, and we all doted on Becky, the baby of the family.

It was a happy place, with friends regularly piling through the door and tucking into Mum’s homemade dinners.

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