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.

Nick stayed almost six months. After a while, money and credit cards started going missing, but it was easier to think I had lost them. Then his room started to fill up with new trainers, and one day I came home to find him watching porn on my computer. I told him he had to go and he punched me in the face. It’s hard for me to get up when I fall down, so I was stuck on the floor, watching him flip over the couches and throw my records around. He said he was claiming squatters’ rights. I don’t think I looked him in the eye after that. He stayed for another week, until a friend helped me kick him out.

Months later, Nick knocked on my door again. He said he wanted to apologise and check how I was doing. It was late, but I opened the door. He hit me in the throat and I fell back, coughing. Another bloke stepped over me into the house. I couldn’t speak. They dragged me upstairs and handcuffed me to my bed. Nick ripped the telephone out of the wall and said, “In the morning, we’re taking you to the bank. You’re going to get us £50,000.” They thought I was rich because I own a garden centre. All night I sat there listening to them downstairs. I later found out they were drinking, taking drugs and trashing the place. The police told me to get rid of the carpet. There were women’s voices, too. When I shouted down that I needed the toilet, Nick threw me a bucket. They weren’t human.

In the morning, they came up to get me. They had guns. I don’t know what they said; all I could think about was whether they were going to kill me. My heart was thumping, and before I knew it, we were driving into the town centre. Nick was right behind me with his gun as we walked to Lloyds bank.

The bank was just opening. Nick pushed me to the cashier’s desk, while the other man waited outside. I said I wanted to cash out £50,000, then I whispered under my breath, “He’s got a gun.” Nick was inches behind me. The cashier said, “I’ll have to go to the safe.” When she got back, she took us to a table in the corner and explained how they had to count the money. Nick was twitching and pacing, complaining in foul language. There was a slow, horrible half-hour. All I could think about was the gun.

Two plainclothes police officers came in, acting like normal customers – until they got close. Then they pounced. Nick swung at the cashier and screamed, “Give me the money!” He was desperate, like an animal: spitting, biting and kicking until they cuffed his arms and legs. They later caught his accomplice in France.

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Nick got four years in prison. He served two and now he’s back inside again. I still run the nursery, but it hasn’t ended for me. I don’t sleep. Nick stole my passport and my credit card, and sold my details to other thieves. I’ve since been robbed and attacked at home and at work. I try not to think about it, but I still get panic attacks.

My health is getting worse. I have no family nearby to support me; social services used to send a carer, but the agency closed. I can fall over putting on my trousers and spend hours waiting for help. The ambulance knows its way to my house by now.

I’m more cautious around people since being attacked, but I tell myself it was because I’m friendly with the bank staff that they realised what was happening. The doctor says I should find a lodger, and I know he’s right. It just needs to be someone I can trust.

• As told to Tim Gunn. Nick’s name has been changed.

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