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He ripped the telephone out of the wall and said, ‘In the morning, we’re taking you to the bank’ Nick was a good worker. I gave him a job at my little garden centre because I knew his dad a bit. He had a good reference from the council, too. He handled the stock, which is hard for me because I’ve got Parkinson’s disease. One night, Nick appeared at my door, soaking wet from the rain, and asked for a room. He’d left the nursery by then and was sleeping in his dad’s shed, because he didn’t get on with his stepmother. I live alone and didn’t like seeing him like that, so I let him in; we agreed it would just be for two nights. But he came back a week later, saying, “I can’t find anywhere else.” It’s hard to let someone you know go on sleeping in a shed. “We’ll try a couple of weeks,” I said. Continue reading...