A cup of POISON
My gorgeous black and white Staffie jumped up the garden path, scampering towards a young man.
‘What’s her name?’ he smiled, playing with her.
‘She’s called Mollie,’ I said. ‘She’s six.’
‘I’m Christopher, I live next door,’ he explained.
He was living in a shared house with a bunch of other guys around his age, then 23.
It felt nice to make a new friend, and after our first meeting, I’d often let Chris look after Mollie when I was at work.
We became good friends
Chris was unemployed, and he got on so well with Mollie.
They really adored each other.
In 2014, I was working at a local charity shop in Chatham, Kent.
I’d had a dreadful run of luck in recent years.
My daughter had died, then
