NIGHT CLOUT

Standing up, I whipped out my purse. ‘Right, it’s my round ladies, what are we all having?’ I asked above the racket in the pub.

‘The usual please babe,’ they shouted,, smiling at the thought of more drinks.

It was 11 May 2019, and we were at The Good Measure pub in Caldicot.

I was out with a mix of family and friends–a few had gone home already, so it was just me, my aunt Bernie, 59, and my mate Jackie, 50, still standing.

After a few more rounds, they decided to call it a night. ‘Stay for a few more, the night is young!’ I begged them.

Living at home with my parents, Liz, 69, and Frank, 75, I was Dad’s full-time carer.

I rarely got the chance for a night out, so now, I wanted to make the most of it.

But it seemed I was the only one.

‘It’s midnight,