Susan Sutton, 60, wrote to the Guardian to tell us how she spent a year sleeping rough, before the compassion of a man in a burger restaurant changed everything

I met my first husband in London while working in a pub in West Kensington. I had just turned 18 when we got married at Fulham register office. We moved in with his mum in Hackney, but the relationship hit the rocks when another member of his family arrived on the scene. I don’t know if it was jealousy or something else, but when we were left alone one evening this man took a cut-throat razor from his pocket, held it to my throat and ordered me to leave. I had been married for only six weeks, but I left – even though I had nowhere to go.

My first night on the street was terrifying. It was winter and it was cold and noisy; I was all alone, not knowing where to turn for help. I realised quickly that the only help I was going to receive was from myself. Back then, platform tickets at Victoria station were only 2p. I figured out that the Dover train would stay in the station from roughly 12.15am to 6.30am. I bedded down on that train with a valid ticket to get me out of any trouble.

I mostly kept to myself on the street. I was self-reliant. I stored my clothes in luggage lockers at Victoria and cleaned up in the station’s loos. The only time I depended on others was when I was absolutely penniless. There used to be a cafe at Victoria called the No 9 and I would work with a group of four other homeless people to steal meals. I am not proud of this, but we had to survive.

Life was tough on the streets. I spent a year sleeping rough among drug addicts, alcoholics and sex workers. Most of them, despite their problems, were decent people and they would often help in whatever ways they could. When I couldn’t get my head down, I would wander the streets or see out the night in the 24-hour cafes. It was in one of these cafes that my life turned around.

I had taken sanctuary in a Wimpy in Leicester Square and was cradling a bowl of soup that had to last all night. A man was staring right at me. I tried not to make eye contact with him, but it didn’t stop him from coming over. He started talking to me and opened up about his life and family. His name was David. We must have sat there for hours. Finally, he offered me a bed for the night. I was reluctant – it wasn’t the first time that a male stranger had propositioned me with this offer - but for some reason I trusted him.

I was right. I had a full night’s sleep on a real bed. When I woke up the next morning, this kind stranger had left me a key, some money and a note, suggesting I buy new clothes. When he returned, he had found me a live-in job at the Hotel InterContinental on Park Lane, where he worked. The speed at which my life was changing felt surreal. It was an amazing feeling to have someone see beyond the scruffy stranger on the street and actually notice me and believe in me.

David and I became very close friends. Eventually, I left the hotel and took a job as a housekeeper. A few weeks afterwards, I discovered that David had been killed in a hit-and-run as he got off the bus on Park Lane. For him to lose his life like that was so cruel. He was gentle, kind and never expected anything from me; he didn’t deserve to have his life taken away like that. I think about him all the time and where I would be now if it wasn’t for his kindness.

If you are worried about becoming homeless, contact the housing department of your local authority to fill in a homeless application. You can use the gov.uk website to find your local council

For more stories of life after homelessness, read Guardian Cities’ the empty doorway series

Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram to join the discussion, catch up on our best stories or sign up for our weekly newsletter