'Yes?' 'Mr Moreton. Atkins and Everett, Surveyors.' 'Oh good. Right on time,' she said, ushering him in. He stepped into the hallway and immediately glanced up. His eagle eyes had spotted the hairline crack in the ceiling. 'Come through, come through.' Jen tried to divert him. 'Can I ask a few questions first?' He stubbornly stayed where he was, unzipped his case and withdrew a sheet of paper and biro. 'They're not strictly necessary but I like to get a sense of the bigger picture, particularly when the buyers have requested a full survey.' 'Sure, fire away.' 'How long have you lived here?' 'Three years.' Long years. 'Do you know when the house was built?' His tone was very solemn. Maybe surveyors had to be like that, like driving examiners. If they said anything friendly, their comments could be misconstrued and the failed learner might complain they were put off by 'all the chit-chat and flirty smiles', and their failure was nothing whatsoever to do with skidding fifty feet when the instructor whacked the dashboard for the emergency stop.
