CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Leah had just finished her breakfast when the doorbell rang. Nina, being a highly-strung cat, jumped off the sofa and ran towards the main bedroom as Leah walked towards the door. It was only 8.30 in the morning so it had to be a delivery of some sort, she reckoned.
A strange man was standing there. Late middle-age, balding, with tufts of grey hair that stuck out above his ears. Wire-framed spectacles balanced on the bumpy bridge of a narrow nose and his grey tweed overcoat looked much too heavy for late September. He definitely wasn’t a delivery man.
He thrust a bony hand towards her. “Ian Edwards,” he introduced himself. “I’m your landlord.”
“Oh!” Leah’s hand flew to her mouth. She was still in her dressing gown and the house wasn’t particularly tidy. How could he
