One beautiful, sunny afternoon in August 2011 I was on a beach with friends, watching my husband, Jon Egging, perform at an air show near Bournemouth. I knew something wasn’t right when he didn’t telephone me afterwards from the airfield. He always called me when he landed to say he was safe but this time my mobile stayed silent. Because I was watching the display from the beach, I hadn’t seen the crash that killed him.

Jon was a pilot with the Royal Air Force Red Arrows. He was 33 and coming to the end of his first year with the aerobatic team. I watched him perform many times but the Bournemouth Air Festival was always one of the highlights of the season. The main display takes place along the seafront, which is a spectacular backdrop for an airshow but a few miles from Bournemouth Airport, where the team was based that day.

I had been especially excited when I woke that morning because the weather had been atrocious, and, for once, the skies were clear. That meant the Reds could perform their full display, not hampered by the cloud cover that can restrict their formations. So this would be the first time I had watched Jon complete the full display.