Marilyn Wisbey, 65, north London
As my little sister Lorraine, 7, counted to 10, I sneaked into the airing cupboard and hid under some bedsheets.
There, I found a dark-green, woolly hat and put it on. It went over my entire head, with holes for my eyes and mouth.
Moments later, Lorraine – a year younger than me – opened the door.
‘Found you!’ she squealed.
I showed the strange hat to my mum Renee, 31.
‘One of Daddy’s hats, collecting moths,’ she shrugged.
Then I recognised one of the mugshots in the paper It was the summer of 1962 and our dad Tommy Wisbey, then 31, wasn’t around much.
A bookmaker, he was always at work, watching horse racing, or out with the boys.
But, on Saturdays, he’d take…
