The door was ajar, music playing from deep within the old terrace, so I edged gingerly into the unfamiliar house.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darker surrounds, and when they did I was not impressed. I’m willing to forgive a reluctant housekeeper, but really! I took a moment to savour the assault on my senses. The air had a damp grime that clung to my skin, I could even taste it. My sinuses prickled in revolt. The dominant colour was a faded greyish brown that in a previous decade must have been a real colour. The few pieces of dilapidated furniture were scattered about with an air of haphazard nonchalance. A phone lay severed on the floor. This must be the uncle’s house I decided. Pride can take a very hard fall in old age. That’s when I noticed a note crudely stuck on the paint flaked wall.