Nor could I remember how I’d come to hear about the place. Maybe I’d seen an advert in a newspaper, or placed in a dusty shop window.What I do recall is that nothing about the place stuck in my mind. It was just a convenient rental property—something I could afford, and close enough to my job that I didn’t have to spend a fortune on petrol to get there.That first viewing was actually a week before I moved in. I was in something of a rush; the need for adequate accommodation outweighed any sense of trepidation I might otherwise have experienced. The house ticked all the boxes, of course: it was cheap, with two bedrooms, a small garden, and all the modern conveniences necessary for a small family home. It wasn’t located in the best of areas, but that didn’t matter to me. I was used to rough neighborhoods. I was born on the wrong side of the tracks and had stayed there pretty much all through my adult life, in spirit if not in body.What really mattered above everything else was that I had a home: a base for me and a bedroom for Jess when she came to stay every other weekend.The place suited my needs.
