Somehow they had managed to bring up four well mannered children. One had been in the same year as Kathy at high school.
Keith stopped and stared at number 24. No matter how long the house stood there it was never going to blend in. The original houses on the road were farm workers cottages – originally six tiny terraced houses now knocked through to make two semi’s. The council had added twenty-one more houses in the form of seven blocks of three in a post-war attempt to improve the lot of the slum dwellers by scattering them across the county. Number 24 had been tacked on in the late sixties on a vacant plot of land. Rumour had it that the architect had committed suicide when he saw the finished house but the truth was that it had been designed and built by Mr Munroe who fancied himself as the new Frank Lloyd Wright. The result was a bungalow that looked like the bastard off-spring of a warehouse and a cucumber frame. It was neither pretty nor functional, must cost a fortune to heat and roast in summer.