SEPARATED... BUT NOT BY CHOICE

Raquel Roberts Dos Santos can't afford for her family to all be together

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Flicking my phone screen into selfie mode, my two sons and I squeezed together to share the little rectangle in the corner of the screen. 'It's ever so dark your end, we can hardly see you,' I bellowed through the phone to my husband - but I don't think he could hear me against the sound of Big Ben bonging on the TV and the cheers and celebrations that filled the room.

Then, as the final stroke of midnight rang out, we all yelled, 'Happy New Year!'

We held out one hand each, two halves of a heart joining 5,000 miles apart, and when the boys shouted, 'I love you, Daddy. I miss you', my heart ached with guilt.

I yearned for us to be able to hug and hold each other like normal 'together' families, but I was in the UK and my husband, Manoel, was in Brazil. We were separated, though not by choice.

We met 17 years ago when I was 30, single, and teaching English as a foreign language in Brazil. We conversed and I was super impressed to have met Manoel, aka 'Mestre Mangue' - a master of the Brazilian martial art known as capoeira - and we became fast friends. Six years later, in 2014, a romantic relationship finally blossomed.

That same year, though, I learnt that, unfortunately, beautiful Brazil has its dark sides. One evening, after leaving the private language school where I taught and pulling up outside my accommodation, a car suddenly swerved in front to block me in and another behind.

The passenger door opened and a woman sat herself next to me, pointing a gun at my head shouting, 'Give me the keys. Get out of the car!'

As I duly complied with her orders, she tossed my phone on the back seat and a man swiftly took my place in the driver's seat. Then they just sped off, leaving me shivering and shaking.

GREAT COMFORT