The summer of 2013 was the third hottest on record in London. At the time I was living in a mouldy semi-detached in Clapham South; what happened in that house has left a lingering horror in my memory that changed the way I feel about London forever.
In the flat below us there lived an elusive elderly woman named Audrey. Before I signed the lease, the landlord had briefly mentioned her, saying only that she was a bit anti-social but nothing to worry about – ‘not violent or anything.’ That should have scared me off but I was desperate and my university course was due to begin in a matter of days. We signed the lease and sealed our fates for the next 12 months.
Audrey’s absence made me long for her familiar cat lady cries and clatter of cupboard doors
During that year, Audrey would permeate my consciousness nearly every hour of the day and would come to inhabit my dreams too.
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