31, The Hill.
Our new home.
We had worked hard for this house.
I had a walk in wardrobe; I could actually go right in.
It would be the setting for many happy childhood years for our two little girls.
New friends would pop in for tea and cakes.
It would be a place filled with laughter and joy.
Everyone would want to come here.
Our sanctuary. Our home.
However, this was not how things turned out at all...
31, The Hill was the setting for death.
Conflict and jealousy. Break ups and make ups. Secrets and lies.
This was not to mention the dirty knickers that I never want to think about again.
Oh, we did laugh. But I was also chilled to the bone.
My dream home? The aspirational living? The walk-in wardrobe?
That summer, I only had one thing to say about The Hill.
I hated The bastard Hill.
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