Mummy's a beautiful angel

We're looking at the photograph of the pretty blonde woman, a baby Jessica in her arms. "You must talk about her a lot," I say to John. "The photos are always there and we say goodnight to her every night," he replies. "One of the things Debbie wanted was to have her ashes in the garden so she could be close to Jess when she was playing. We've got a little fairy garden in the corner and the ashes are in there." He then does something that takes my breath away. "Where's mummy?" Bright-eyed Jessica perks up. "In heaven," quick as a flash, the answer comes back. "What's she doing there?" "She's a beautiful angel." I'm lost for words. It's about as much as I can take.

Debbie Briggs died in November 2003. She was just 39, her baby daughter only ten months old. Her death was peaceful, in contrast with the battle she waged with cancer. In the end, it was all too much, the illness too strong. It's easy to think of it as a tragedy - a single father, a little girl without her mum - but being with them, it doesn't seem so. Jessica's always laughing and their house in Middlesbrough is a happy home. And for John, there are many happy memories.

"I'd known Debbie for a long time before we got together," he recalls. "I used to be a sound engineer and she used to be the hostess at The Phoenix nightclub, which is now The Towers in Middlesbrough. I used to go in and check on the sound and lighting."

While John, now 42, had a huge crush on Debbie, it took a while for him to ask her for a date. "She was one of those girls who, if you're standing in a club, you think they're lovely but you would never ask them out," he says. "You think they're out of your league. She was gorgeous. I asked her out a couple of times but she turned me down. She thought I was a flirt."

When Debbie bought a fancy dress shop - Mardi Gras, on Middlesbrough's Parliament Road - and started work there, she and John remained friends. It was during this time that Debbie found a lump. "She went to the GP with a lump in her breast and he said 'go home and learn about your own body and stop wasting your time and mine'," says John bitterly. "She waited nearly 18 months before she went back."

By then the lump was the size of an egg and a different doctor sent her straight to hospital. She had chemotherapy and radiotherapy and eventually, a mastectomy. At every step, John was there. "In the background I really fancied her but I was there as a friend," he says seriously.

John's patience paid off and in 2001, he and Debbie got together. The issue of children proved a sore point. "Debbie told me that the radiotherapy and chemotherapy would have made her sterile and there was no chance of having children," says John. "It almost came to the point that it broke us up because she thought one day I would want a family and she would never be able to give me one. I just said 'I don't want children and if it's going to be a big thing for you, we can always adopt'."

Yet when Debbie went for surgery to rebuild her breast, she heard some shocking news. "She was sitting gowned up on the edge of the bed and the surgeons were walking in and asking questions," says John. "One of the questions was 'when was your last period?' and she said 'I don't know', because she was taking a drug called tamoxifen, which sends your cycle all over the place. They said 'we'll just do a pregnancy test', and she laughed and said 'there's no chance of that'. Then a nurse walked in and said 'congratulations - you're pregnant'."

Debbie was delighted - and John finally learned the truth about her views on motherhood. "I found out that that's all she'd ever wanted," he says. "We sat down and started planning our life together. Instead of going for all the checks for cancer, all of a sudden, it was ante-natal classes."

While Debbie's pregnancy meant a break in screening, she wasn't worried about the illness. "According to Debbie, this was the only chance of her having a baby," says John. When she had pains she just dismissed them. "We thought she'd strained her chest pulling the shutter down at work," he says.

Shortly after Jessica's birth, in January 2003, Debbie went for tests. "There was a small lump on her collar bone," explains John. "They took a needle biopsy and we made an appointment to see the results four days later. They said the cancer had returned."

Though John was naturally upset, he was buoyed by Debbie's strength. "Debbie was quite positive at that point," he says. "She said 'I've beaten it before and I can beat it again.' I said 'OK. You know your body'."

Just as before, John was there throughout the treatment. The only difference was Jessica's presence. "I thought if Jessica was there all the time, it would keep her positive," he says.

As Debbie weakened, her sister Jackie searched the Internet. With great excitement, she came to John with a source of hope. "It was Staten Island University Hospital in New York," he says. "They did pioneering treatment called radiosurgery. I phoned them up and they asked us to send them Debbie's notes."

When the US doctors agreed to help, John was over the moon. Through a mammoth effort, he raised $25,000 to pay for the trip. At first the surgery appeared to work. "Within a week of us going home, the tumour was gone," says John. "We had a month of just being a normal family." Before long, however, the cancer was back. "It had spread to Debbie's lung," says John. "I phoned America and they said 'it's in so many places, I don't think we can help you this time'. It was absolutely devastating."

Debbie's health declined sharply and, urged by a Macmillan nurse, she went to stay at Teesside Hospice. It was while she was here, as her life ebbed away, that John was struck by a pressing wish. "I was talking to the chaplain and I said 'is there any chance of us getting married here?'" he says. "He phoned up one of his colleagues in London, who got in touch with the Archbishop of Canterbury. He (the Archbishop) phoned me up at the hospice and asked me some questions, and faxed across a pledge that I had to sign. Then he gave us permission to get married." At 8pm on November 21, 2003, John and Debbie exchanged vows. Just after nine the next morning, Debbie passed away.

John's grief is no longer raw - he has his daughter to keep him going, as well as his job at a taxi firm. Yet while he's settled in his life, he does have fears. "Because cancer is genetic, I have to worry about Jess," he says. "It's going to be a big concern to her."

With this in mind, and in memory of Debbie, John holds a tribute night each year. The last one raised £1,500 for Cancer Research UK, which holds the Race for Life. "Things have to be done now because too many people are still being turned away and the waiting lists are still too long," says John. "Every person you speak to knows someone who's been touched by cancer. It's a horrible disease."

l The Race for Life, an event for women, is taking place at venues throughout the region, starting this Sunday. For more details or to book a place, visit www.raceforlife.org or ring 08705 134314.