FLASH FICTION: IT WAS THE pudding that did it. Tipped Denise over the edge. It had started with her milk going missing from the staff fridge. It was organic non-fat and she had written her name on the carton in red marker so no one would take it. They probably thought she wouldn't notice but Denise had started to mark the level of milk on the carton so she knew.

No one was going to outsmart her. The next things that went missing were her mini chocolate bars. She bought the small ones because they were 100 calories and she only allowed herself to have a low-calorie treat a day. She was proud of her good figure. She could still fit into clothes she had worn 20 years ago.

“Looks like she still wears her granny clothes,” she heard one of the girls snigger. Not like girls nowadays, with the fat spilling out of their jeans. She had some self-control. She had talked to her boss about it but he just looked at her and said that it was a bit dramatic to call it theft and that no, he wasn’t going to call in staff one by one and ask them who was taking her food.

She had sent around an email – “I am very upset that someone has been eating my food . . . ” – but no one replied. She had noticed odd glances thrown her way after sending the email but she thought this would tell them. She started to wonder if it wasn’t everyone that was doing it.

She knew the staff were intimidated by her, which was why she wasn’t included on the coffee break. Not that she wanted to listen to those girls with their vulgar stories and their screechy laughter. No class and no breeding, as her mother would have said.

Sticky toffee pudding was her favourite dessert. She had gone out to dinner for her sister’s birthday and it was one of those four-course set menus, which she hated. Too much food. She didn’t like to overeat. She was too full to eat dessert so she asked if she could take it to go.

It was in a styrofoam container oozing toffee sauce with a side of whiskey flavoured cream. The container was still there, empty except for a scrape of cream, mocking her.

The next morning she brought in a cake, a fresh cream swiss roll. She had taken a syringe and squirted the liquid in both sides of the cakes. She wrote her name on the box in the usual big red letters. When the first person ran to the bathroom, she laughed. She could hear the sounds of vomiting even from where she sat.

She started to worry when someone rang emergency services. Eight hospitalised for food poisoning. People talking about her needing psychiatric care.

But, as she told the police, at least no one would be eating her food again.

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