We adopted Becky when she was eight months old. She was born in London of parents from Barbados, but Ireland was always her home - she never knew anything else. Her brother Dominic was also adopted and he too felt - and feels - Irish. Both of our children have lived here all their lives - they're Irish.
Becky loved the craic; if there was a party going on, Becky had to be there. And she was a great cook, she could rustle up the most wonderful dishes in the kitchen. Eventually she decided to study catering in college.
She had just finished her first term in a catering and hospitality course in Manchester Metro and had come home for Christmas. However, she got sick on January 3rd. We called the doctor and he came by and tested her for all the meningitis symptoms, but he couldn't find anything, and told me not to worry. He was very vigilant, but he simply couldn't find any signs of meningitis.
By about 2am that night she came upstairs and told me she had been sick. I sat with her for the whole time but her pain just kept getting worse and worse.
One of the symptoms is cold hands and feet but Becky's hands were always cold, so I didn't think much of it.