I was starting to get a bit worried about Mum coming home. Because as well as the good times there were also the bad. Sometimes she would stay up all night cleaning and it was difficult to get any sleep when she was in one of her strange moods.
‘This place is a mess,’ she would complain the next day and try to enlist us in one of her schemes to get the flat in order again.
We would scrub the place from top to toe, hoovering and dusting until it was sparkling clean. She wouldn’t even let us out to see our friends. I wanted Mum to come home for Christmas, I really did, but I also wanted her to be well before she returned.