TRUE LIFE
My son’s last words to me were a vow he couldn’t keep
Fiona Spargo-Mabbs, 56, Croydon
Padding into the kitchen for breakfast, I yawned sleepily.
‘Boo!’ my younger son, then 16, yelled, jumping out from behind the door.
‘Dan!’ I tutted, my heart racing. ‘Stop that!’
But he flashed me his cheeky grin and I couldn’t stay cross with him for long. No one could. Not with Dan. It was January 2014, and me and my husband Tim, then 49, had two sons.
Jacob, 18, had just started at Kent university.
Dan was our family mischief-maker, always teasing and laughing.
Everything was more fun with him around.
He was in sixth form now, having worked hard for good GCSE results.
He’s so grown-up, I thought, ruffling his hair.
He’d started going to a couple of gigs, the odd house party with mates.
And that Friday…
‘Mum, there’s a party tonight. Can I go?’ he asked. I frowned.
It was late notice.
‘It’s a friend of a friend, he doesn’t have many mates. Everyone’s going,’ he pleaded.
‘What time does it finish?’ I asked.
‘At 3am, but we’ll come 38
home together,’ he said.‘Come on, you know I’m sensible.’
He was, and it wasn’t like it was every Friday night. We checked the train times together, and it was only one stop.
‘OK,’ I said eventually. Later, he pulled on his coat and kissed the top of my head.
‘I love you, Mum. I promise I won’t die,’ he grinned.
Knowing how much I worried, it’d become a running joke between us.
Something he said every time he left the house.
‘Love you too,’ I smiled back.
Climbing into bed that night, I glanced at the clock.
Normally, I waited up for Dan, but I’d never make it to 3am.
Only when I got up at 5am, his bed was still empty, and he wasn’t picking up his phone.
Icy panic gripped me.
Maybe he’s gone back to someone’s house, or the party ran over, I thought.
Then I heard a car pull up outside, a noise at the door.
Dan!
Rushing downstairs, my smile froze on my face.
It wasn’t Dan. It was a police officer.
‘Are you the parents of Daniel Spargo-Mabbs?’ he asked, as Tim came downstairs.
I nodded numbly and he started talking. An illegal rave… ecstasy pills… It made no sense.
‘Dan was found unconscious. He’s in Hillingdon Hospital in intensive care,’ the officer said.
I was stunned – that was 30 miles away.
We got Jacob, who was home for the holidays and equally shocked, out of bed and set off. When we arrived, we sat in the waiting room as police came in and out,
