Monday afternoon and spring sunshine is creeping into Ansell Avenue, a quiet, suburban street in Chatham, the Medway town once home to Charles Dickens.
This is a pleasant place to live, with its carefully mown grass verges, blossoming trees and neat semi-detached homes.
Two well-groomed cats are lazing in the sun on a terracotta doorstep. All seems well but, ominously, their owner — a lady who prefers not to be named for fear of reprisals — tells the Mail that, in recent weeks, Florence and Boofy have been showing signs of anxiety. And with good cause, it seems.
