The Startling Inaccuracy of the First Impression
Will enemy neighbours be able to work together?
Woodlands Avenue is a peaceful and tranquil street, picturesque with Victorian-era homes and lined with trees. Verity Forsyth lives at 27A, and is enjoying her early retirement, active social calendar and occasional babysitting duties.
Katie Ross is starting over, leaving her old home and her controlling ex behind and moving into a new apartment. When Katie and her beloved motorbike move into 27B, she finds herself immediately in conflict with her upstairs neighbour, Verity.
Two such forceful personalities under one roof is a recipe for disaster.
When disaster strikes, will they be able to put aside their differences and call a truce?
Katie Ross tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and looked up at number twenty-seven Woodlands Avenue. It was a Victorian-built property, much like so many others in Greater London. The building had two floors, with three windows on the upper level and two large bay windows on the ground. In the middle of the building, in between the windows on the ground floor, were two doors.
It was the only indication that the house wasn’t one home, but rather two. One of the doors led to the downstairs apartment, and one led to a flight of stairs up to the top-floor apartment.
“Miss Ross?” a man asked.
Katie turned to him and smiled. “Yes. Please call me Katie.”
He held out a hand. “Peter,” he introduced himself.
Peter Lawton was exactly what Katie had expected. He was in his late sixties and obviously kept himself in good shape; he was tall and well-built. His face was slightly weathered and his hair white. He wore smart chinos, a collared shirt, and a thin V-neck sweater.
He held a set of keys which wouldn’t have looked out of place hanging from the belt of a prison warden. Peter obviously rented out a number of properties.
“Lovely, quiet street,” he commented. “Did you find it okay?”
Katie nodded. She’d looked it up on Google Maps before calling him to arrange a viewing.
It was too big for her, but she wanted a place in South London and everything she saw seemed to be snapped up before she even had the chance to make a phone call.
Studio apartments and small one-bedrooms were few and far between, and so she’d started to look at two-bedroom homes instead. It was more than she wanted to pay, bigger than she needed, and a little farther south than she would have liked but staying where she was currently living was becoming unmanageable. If the property Peter was about to show her didn’t have mould growing up the walls, she’d take it.
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