We ascended the staircase to the first floor (that’s the 2nd floor in US terms) hands firmly on the wooden rail in the vain hope that, should the whole thing start to collapse, the railing would save us. We made our way down a dark hall and crawled through another hole knocked into a locked door, human cat flap style. Once inside we discovered we were standing in what would have been the children’s bedroom or, at the very least, playroom. Jigsaw pieces littered the floor among plastic and wooden figures belonging to a hundred and one different board games. We found letters from Granny, post cards, an acrylic art set, countless toys and illustrated books.
Although I’m not sure which is more off-putting: the creepy, beat up pram sitting in the corner of the room or the dead bird lying in it’s own wire bird cage, now rusted with age. It’s as though the family picked up and left in the middle of the night, forgetting about poor Polly!