Drag queen drama…

Our O party-loving pub p landlord wasn’t quite q as he seemed...

Watching my hubby whizz across the finish line in his wheelchair, my heart swelled. He’d just completed his first marathon, raising a whopping £2,000 for charity.

‘Anson is so selfless,’ our friend Joanne Colclough said as we clapped and cheered. ‘We should raise some money to get him a proper racing wheelchair.’ ‘Amazing idea,’ I said. When I’d first got together with Anson, now 46, he didn’t need a wheelchair.

In fact he’d been really active. He’d spent years in the Army and then worked on an oil rig, going for runs every night

Only, he’d struggled with back pain.

In October 2015, he had surgery to help relieve it.

Months afterwards, he was still in agony.

Then, in January 2016, he collapsed.

As I rushed him to hospital, the feeling had started to leave Anson’s legs.

Doctors couldn’t tell us what was wrong, and they didn’t even know whether he’d ever walk again.

Confined to a wheelchair, Anson was forced to give up his job on the oil rig.

But he refused to let his condition beat him.

Before long, he was back at the gym.

Then came the marathons, where he raised money to help local people.

He’d love a racing wheelchair and he deserved it, too.

Joanne planned a fundraising day, and when my boss Matt got wind of it, he was keen to help.

‘You can have it at the pub!’ he said.

I worked at The Beverley cleaning each morning, and me and Anson were regulars.

Matt, the landlord, was more than my boss, he was my friend.

He was flamboyant, the life and soul, so I wasn’t surprised he wanted to be involved in a party.

‘Thanks so much,’ I said to Matt.

Soon, the whole community y was getting in on the act, offering bouncy castles, raffle prizes and free burgers and sausages for a barbecue.

Matt went above and beyond, performing a drag-queen act with his pal to entertain the crowds.

He was wearing a bright blonde wig, a full face of make-up complete with smoky y eyes, and was dolled up in a long black and white dress. Everyone loved him. ‘We must have raked in a fortune!’ Joanne said at the end of the day. ‘Anson will have his racing wheelchair in no time.’

I was so grateful to her – she’d really worked hard to pull off an amazing day.

That night, I asked Matt to keep the money in the pub’s safe.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’ll post the grand total on Facebook tomorrow.’

I was brimming

I asked Matt to keep the money in the pub’s safe

with excitement. I knew the barbecue stall alone had taken around £250, and plenty more people had donated cash.

But when I saw the amount that Matt had posted, I couldn’t help feeling deflated. It was £400. A racing wheelchair cost at least double that.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Anson said. ‘It’s still a massive amount of money.’

I nodded, he was right. And we’d had a brilliant time.

Over that next week, Matt kindly continued to keep the money in the safe for me.

But the following Monday, I was pottering around at home when a friend texted me.

Matt’s not opened the pub, any idea why?

‘That’s odd,’ I said to Anson. ‘Maybe he’s sick.’

I threw on my coat

and headed round. B But when I arrived, I fo found the door to his flat wi wide open. Strange.

I checked Matt’s bedroom – all his clothes had gone.

And downstairs, there was more bad news.

The pub’s safe was empty. Around £2,000 gone – including the profits from our fundraising day. He’d done a runner. I called the owner of the pub, and she immediately reported M Matt to the police.

It wasn’t long before word h had spread about his d disappearing act. Everyone was furious. I felt hurt and betrayed. Matt and I had been close. I I’d trusted him. I felt like a fool. Then, one afternoon in January last year, Anson was flicking through the local newspaper when his jaw suddenly dropped.

‘Matt Godden’s been in court!’ he said.

Officers had managed to track him down in Blackpool.

He appeared at North Staffordshire Justice Centre, where he admitted stealing a total of £2,000.

Matthew Godden, 33, got a four-month prison sentence, suspended for 12 months. A slap on the wrist. He has to repay the money he took, plus £135 costs and an £85 surcharge.

Sadly, it’s all being paid back to the pub, as it was in their possession when it was stolen.

We’ve still not seen a penny of the money that was raised to help Anson.

Meanwhile, Matt has managed to avoid jail, and start a new life where nobody knows about his despicable crime.

Where’s the justice in that?

Anson says, ‘I have no words for the bloke because he ripped off the whole community. It was heartwrenching. They came together to raise money out of the goodness of their hearts and he took that from them.’