That animal took my boy, and then three others.
When my son Anthony Walgate announced, aged 18, that he was moving to London, my heart sank.
‘If I want to make it in Fashion, I need to be in London,’ he insisted.
Anthony had always dreamed of being a famous fashion designer, sketching his first outfit aged 12.
So I helped him enrol at college in the big city.
He never told me he was gay, but I knew, and I watched proudly as my shy Mummy’s boy blossomed into a smiling, confident young man.
By March 2014, Anthony, then 23, was studying Fashion at Middlesex Uni, where my hubby Sami, 48, and I went to see his catwalk show.
I watched in awe as models strutted around in pieces Anthony had designed, cheered loudly when he came on stage to take a bow. ‘You’re already a star,’ I beamed.
That June, Sami and I jetted to Turkey. But, several days into our holiday, I switched on my phone to check my messages, and it started buzzing like crazy.
I’d missed numerous calls and texts from friends and family…
Mum, I need to speak to you, my eldest son, Paul, 32, had texted.
Call home urgently, my ex, Anthony’s dad Tom, 53, said. Shaking, I phoned Paul.
‘Mum,’ he sobbed. ‘Anthony’s dead.’
‘No!’ I cried.
I went into shock, unable to speak or move.
Sami took the phone and within minutes we were driving killer to the airport. The journey’s a total blur but, back home, reality kicked in.
The police said a man called Stephen Port had found Anthony’s body slumped outside his house in Barking, east London.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der February 16 2017-Ausgabe von Chat.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der February 16 2017-Ausgabe von Chat.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
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