Mat
We were raised, Ricky and me, in Haywards Heath, a commuter-belt town in West Sussex. It was a strange place to grow up: no cinema, no gig venues, absolutely no culture whatsoever. So it was just the four of us at home, us two and Mum and Dad, until Dad left when I was 12. And then it was just the three of us.
I don’t think I was actually that bothered when he left, though Ricky, being younger, was more affected. I suppose we dealt with it in a very British way: we never talked about it. We didn’t really stay in touch with him, but he did make contact a few years ago, after becoming ill. He wanted to see us. To
