Now Alice Husband, 42, Wisbech, Cambs is trying to stop any other needless accidents...


Seth was the youngest of my three boys, and such a happy little chap. He’d try anything once and had very varied taste in music. Reggae, Folk…we’d often do daft dancing round the kitchen!

Seth, 7, was the kind of kid everyone got on with. He loved playing bows and arrows, building dens with his brothers Oliver, then 14, and Jake, 10. And he loved Christmas.

Excited as ever, early in December 2014, Seth read me his Christmas list. He still believed in the magic of it.

‘I want a Spider-Man bag and some computer games,’ he said.

‘You’ll have to write to Father Christmas, then,’ I suggested.

On Friday 5 December, we’d planned to go to the Christmas Fair at Seth’s school. Jake and Seth’s pals were coming.

As I was sorting out bags and some change for the children, Seth was itching to go.

Desperate to keep him busy, I had an idea.

‘Can you pop this in the post box?’ I asked, handing him a letter.

The box was just over the road. He’d crossed it loads of times because my mum lived over the road.

‘Look both ways,’ I said.

A minute or so later, Seth wasn’t back.

‘Where’s your brother?’ I asked Jake.

Then I realised cars were stopping outside. Jake and I went out to see what was happening.

‘I think it’s Seth,’ Jake said, his face pale.

Panic washed over me. It was around 4.15pm, dusk, people were getting out of their cars. My boy?

Rushing over, I saw Seth on the ground. My stomach lurched as I saw blood on his head and the road…

‘It was an accident,’ a woman standing outside was saying.

I cradled Seth’s head in my lap as someone did CPR. It felt like an eternity before the ambulance arrived.

I sent Jake and Seth’s pal to Mum’s, while Seth was taken to Addenbrooke’s Hospital, where doctors said that he was stable but unconscious.

‘He needed stitches in his mouth, and his left femur bone is damaged,’ one said.

My boy had serious head injuries, too. They’d put him in a coma to let his body rest.

Our lives had been turned upside down in minutes.

Mum looked after Jake and Oliver, while I refused to leave Seth’s side.

Next day, doctors drained fluid from his brain to try to prevent further brain damage.

That Monday, a school residential worker brought Oliver to see Seth. A few days later, Mum brought Jake in.

We were all quiet, just hoping Seth would pull through.

Alice and Seth (Photo: SWNS)

Alice and Seth (Photo: SWNS)

Friends and family rallied round. I clung to hope but, a week on, Seth was still showing no signs of recovery.

Two weeks after the incident, on 19 December, doctors said his brain activity was minimal, he couldn’t breathe unaided.

We all surrounded Seth as he slipped away peacefully.

‘I love you,’ I sobbed brokenly, holding my boy in my arms.

Utterly distraught, we went home.

I was absolutely beside myself, Oliver and Jake didn’t want to talk about what had happened.

Just six days on, we tried our best to get through Christmas.

It was so hard, but I knew it was what Seth would’ve wanted.

At the end of January 2015, we held Seth’s funeral at St Mary’s Church, Tydd St Mary.

We played Pharrell Williams’ Happy and people wore bright colours and superhero outfits to honour my special, happy little boy.

People dressed as Batman, Robin and a pirate to carry his coffin.

Afterwards, we held a kids’ party and disco to celebrate Seth’s short, wonderful life.

Then, a few months on, police contacted me to say the driver of the car that hit Seth had been using hermobile on speakerphone.

She’d been doing 27mph in a 30mph zone – not speeding – but, despite having her lights on, she hadn’t seen my boy.

In August 2015, at Lincoln Magistrates Court, Amy Asker, 33, admitted careless driving.

She was given a £90 fine and five points on her licence.

The punishment didn’t matter. I didn’t blame her, at that time she didn’t think that using hands-free was reckless behaviour.

I’ve used hands-free in the past. No-one could have predicted the tragedy ahead.

At the inquest in May, we heard Asker had made and received seven calls in the minutes before the accident.

She didn’t feel her driving was impaired, said it was no different from talking to a passenger.

But, because she was distracted, it’s believed her reaction time was slower, and the coroner ruled it contributed to Seth’s death.

I was shocked to find that she’d had so many calls over a short period, but I wasn’t angry.

‘I’ve forgiven her,’ I told Mum.

Asker has suffered, too. It was a terrible, terrible accident.

‘It could have been any one of us,’ I said.

We all need to learn from it and try to move on. I want to remember Seth as the smiley, much-loved little boy he was.

Now, we’ve moved house and Oliver, Jake and I talk about Seth all the time, miss him every day.

This Christmas, we’ll do our best to try to enjoy ourselves, just like Seth would’ve done.

I’ll never forget my precious little Smiler.