A Cuckoo in Candle Lane by Kitty Neale Page B

better when they realised that they were in the clear now. The police wouldn’t be looking for her, as they feared. After all, the landlord daren’t report the robbery. They had the evidence right there that he’d been cheating the brewery …
    ‘Are you all right, Babs? You’re a bit quiet,’ Ken said now.
    ‘Yeah, of course I am. I just hope this won’t be another blind alley. I’m beginning to think we’ll never find the right house.’
    ‘Perhaps we’re aiming too high. If this is as hopeless as the others, we may ’ave to look for something smaller.’
    ‘I suppose so,’ she sighed. ‘But if we don’t get a place with a decent number of bedrooms, we won’t make much money.’
    Leaving the seafront they turned into a wide road lined on each side with tall imposing houses. ‘This looks promising,’ Ken said, a hint of excitement in his voice as they walked briskly along, looking for number seventeen.
    They found it halfway along, sandwiched between two immaculately decorated houses, where it stood out like a sore thumb.
    Barbara gazed at the tall Victorian house with its filthy marble stairs leading up to a battered-looking front door, and her mouth drooped. ‘It looks a bit rundown.’
    ‘Nothing a lick of paint couldn’t put right, but it all depends on the state of the inside. Come on, the agent’s supposed to be waiting for us.’
    They followed behind the portly figure as he extolled the virtue of each room. Their eyes darkened with dismay as they took in the filthy chipped paintwork, the wallpaper stained and hanging from the walls, and the smell! It was awful, a mixture of damp wood and mildew.
    ‘The owner died recently and her heirs are anxious for a quick sale. They may be open to a reasonable offer,’ the agent said, his eyes roaming over them.
    ‘What! Recently, you say? This place looks like a bloody pigsty,’ Ken scoffed.
    The agent stiffened, but his manner remained polite as he said, ‘From what I understand, she was elderly and only used the basement flat. Apparently she had become somewhat eccentric in recent years. If you would like to come this way, I’ll show it to you.’
    They trailed down the stairs behind him, perking up as they entered a spacious and well-equipped kitchen.
    ‘As you can see,’ the agent said, indicating the area with a sweep of his arm, ‘this part of the house is in very good order. There is also a double bedroom and bathroom.’
    ‘Yeah, but the rest of the house is a dump,’ Ken told him.
    ‘Just think of the potential, sir. The rooms are beautifully proportioned and the property is structurally sound. I can assure you,’ he added pompously, ‘that the condition of the house is reflected in the price.’ He took a fob-watch out of his waistcoat pocket, flipped open the lid and stared pointedly at the dial.
    ‘Well, what do you think, Barbara?’ Ken asked, turning his back on the agent.
    Barbara’s eyes were misty; she could just see the refurbished bedrooms, cream walls and pretty chintz curtains, a vase of fresh flowers on each bedside table to greet the guests on their arrival. Oh yes, her bed and breakfast was going to be the best in Blackpool. ‘Let’s make them an offer,’ she said excitedly.

Chapter Thirteen
     
    I n Battersea, Sally was jumping about with excitement. Any minute now and her gran would be here. She wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself with delight, and for the umpteenth time rushed into the front room to peer out of the window. It was strange to see the room empty now, except for two fireside chairs. A fire glowed in the grate and the pink curtains, donated by Elsie, cast a warm glow into the room. Would her gran like it, she wondered. Would she stay?
    It had been a frantic week. Gran’s letter had animated her mum and for the first time there was a sparkle in her eyes. She had rearranged the front room, moving the sofa into the kitchen to make room for gran’s bed, and disposing of the old