Nigel the Murderer is not alone. We all have nicknames in 12-step recovery groups

Charlotte Cripps’s day has murder written all over it – and it’s not because of the mud the kids and dog are bringing into the flat

Muggles found a dagger in the shrubbery (Illustration by Amara May)

When Muggles came out of the bushes with a murder weapon, he became a local hero. It was a very long dagger with a tiger print handle. Presumably, it had the smell of blood for Muggles to be interested – he certainly wasn’t trying to save the children from stabbing themselves. Although he has been known to rescue them: barking up at my sister Rebecca’s stairs, alerting me that Lola was about to fall down them, and running under the table to try to catch Liberty as she fell off a chair. Deep down I know he wishes to be rid of them so he can reprise his role as top dog; sleeping next to me, his paw on my shoulder, as he did as a puppy just after Alex died.

It was slightly alarming because Muggles found it in the shrubbery where Lola and Liberty always play. Coincidentally, it was just after I saw “Nigel the Murderer”, a fellow recovering addict from 12-step meetings, who spent three decades in prison after bludgeoning somebody to death with a sledgehammer while in blackout. He was walking his terrier. I desperately tried to avoid a conversation with him because I was standing with a yummy mummy and her son Indigo and I couldn’t face having my anonymity blown with some comment like: “Are you still going to meetings? I haven't seen you in a while. Are you… you know… OK?”  

Remember when I came in and I was six stone and shaking; I’m now 10 stone – do I look like I’m on drugs? 

“Don’t I look it?” I always want to say. Remember when I came in and I was six stone and shaking; I'm now 10 stone – do I look like I’m on drugs? It was the only good thing about them; I was never hungry. The days of forgetting to eat are long gone.

He’s one of many recovering addicts/alcoholics with nicknames in local 12-step meetings. There are the "Hep C twins” – they are not really twins but two best friends united by having hepatitis C; Dinner Date Dave – my best guess is that he likes asking ladies out; Mad Phil – need I say more. Grateful Mark is named ironically because he hates being sober; Boring Beth drones on and on in meetings; and Disco Dave is still stuck in the 1980s.

The Black Widow keeps relapsing with men who overdose and Worzel Gummidge has bedhead hair and looks a total mess in designer garb.  God alone knows what I’m called – Crazy Char? I certainly look it as I pick up the dagger.  

Nobody seems to bat an eyelid as I march off to the park warden’s hut with the long blade out in front of me followed by Lola and Liberty. Did I look like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction ? My day has murder written all over it – and it’s not due to the mud covering the kids and the dog that I’m going to have to wash off. 

I have a flashback to the time when I accidentally stabbed a long-term boyfriend in the thigh with a pink Swiss army knife

I have a flashback to the time when I accidentally stabbed a long-term boyfriend in the thigh with a pink Swiss Army knife. Thank god it didn't hit an artery or things could have been very different. I loved him; I didn't want him dead.

“My dog found this knife,” I tell the park wardens proudly. But all they seem to care about is if the dog is OK.  “Of course he is OK, but my kids might not have been had he not saved them from it.”

“Did your dog cut himself on it?” One of the men says again in broken English.  “No the dog is fine,” I say. “No problem with the dog. Problem with knife and children.”

He says: “I will call the parks’ police. Show me where you found it.” I point to where Muggles emerged. “Strange it wasn’t there this morning.” I look around and Muggles is digging another hole the size of his body and lying in it as if he’s a Mafia victim waiting to be buried. He then barks manically; he's covered in mud. The question is, did Muggles dig the knife up that had been there for weeks, or was it dropped there today?

I wonder what the story is; it might be just the evidence needed to solve a murder case? Let’s hope it wasn’t one of the 150,000 fingerprint, DNA, and arrest records accidentally deleted by the Home Office a few weeks ago from the national police database. I don’t hang about for the police to turn up; Muggles can’t exactly give a statement. But I leave my number; to my amazement the next day I’m contacted. They must be desperate. 

They want to ask exactly where he found it. I can’t ask him, sorry. Is there an unsolved cold case in my area? I’m sure there are many. They sound animated; there have been a couple of stabbings locally and they reckon this knife could be crucial evidence. They said Muggles could be recruited as park police dog; if only they knew. He’s only interested in one thing: food. They think he’s a skilled huntsman but the most likely probability is that the knife must have been lying next to a discarded hot dog.