Creeping into the kitchen, I held my breath. ‘Please don’t let anyone be awake,’ I thought to myself. Tiptoeing across the cold tiles, I stood as still as a statue, listening.
Silence.
‘Phew!’ I thought as I reached the fridge.
It was past midnight, and I’d only had dinner a few hours ago, but I was starving. Opening the door, I surveyed the shelves. Yogurts, cheesecake, sausage rolls and a slab of cheddar. Within seconds I was grabbing what I could.
I quietly closed the door and hot-footed it back to my bedroom. The whole lot was gone within 10 minutes, and I felt instantly better.
It was 1994, I was only 13, and my life was hardly stable. My mum, Grace, and dad, Dale, split up when I was…
