I HAD A PREMONITION ABOUT MY SISTER'S DEATH

An awful sense of fear consumed Karen Webb... and then it came true

- KAREN WEBB METRO

It's been more than 25 years and yet one memory of my late sister Claire remains embalmed in my mind. It was a month before she jetted off to her backpacking adventure in Australia, in October 1999. Claire, 23, had been playing hide'n'seek with my son Josh, two. My daughter Dominique, five, was at primary school. I was pregnant, expecting my third baby the following March. As I rested my swollen feet under a den of sticks Josh had built, Claire opened up some soft drinks for us. 'I'm so excited Karen,' she said, clinking my can.

'Cheers to the land of Aus,' I smiled, fighting back a tear. She sensed my sadness and gave me a huge hug.

I tried to soak up every second before she departed from Heathrow airport that November. We'd never been apart. Throughout our childhood, I'd mothered Claire. I was only five years older but instinctively felt I had to protect her.

I taught her to swim and read. As she grew older, she told me her secrets about boys she fancied and when she'd first sneakily glugged alcohol with her pals. We felt as one soul. Claire was the 'peacemaker'. Gentle, full of positivity. While she was away, I worried about where she was, who with and if she had enough money. But Claire did communicate. I would come home delighted to find a postcard, she would call extremely early or late and I went to an internet cafe to send her emails.

That Christmas, she sent me a precious parcel of shells she'd collected and gifts for Dominique and Josh. My son Harry was born 10 March 2000. I missed Claire and wished I could place Harry in her arms. 'At least she'll be back in April,' I sighed, longingly.

Next day, she called, loving being 'Auntie Claire' again. 'Congratulations! Send me a photo of Harry and I'll put him in my pocket.'