FINE,THANKS
Gorse Lane weaves its way steeply upward, the crevasses of its shedding tarmac revealing its toil in reaching the higher ground. It expires with a sharp curve, at which point it cowers at the feet of Palace Road, which takes over the route. Brockett Mansions was precariously poised on the slope of Gorse Hill.The platform on which the block of flats stood did not provide sufficient stability and so the estate did not retain its balance with ease. In order to prevent unsteadiness, the root of the building was sliced diagonally, so as to remain parallel to flat ground. The houses of Palace Road were quaint and simple and possessed a smugness of character that could not be concealed. The street had a queer lack of solidarity, with each house, despite being joined to its neighbours, secluded from them. Mr and Mrs Horsewill lived at number six. The house’s pleasant sky blue colour and abundance of pretty flowers crawling up its front wall visibly indicated the ‘amiability of the lives within’, as Mr Horsewill’s wife assured him. She acknowledged that if civil relations with neighbours were to be maintained, it was of the utmost importance to illustrate their cordiality externally. ‘What was the name of that doctor that used to touch women up?’ enquired Mr Horsewill of his wife on Tuesday morning,
lowering his paper into his lap. ‘Maudsley, dear,’ she responded. ‘Ah yes.’ There was a pause.
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