Stair rods

The stairs were decorated in a similar fashion to the rest of the house. A threadbare runner covered the central portion, held in place by Bakelite riser grips. "Blimey," said Winston, squatting to look at them. "I looked at the price of these when I was doing up my house. They cost a small fortune."

"I'm sure the house will come on the market very shortly," I said. "Like, tomorrow. He's well past his due date, is our Edward Thorburn."

"Does he have any relatives?" Meinwen. "Someone to leave the house to?

"I've no idea," I said. "He obviously did once, to judge by the photographs but whether they're still alive is anybody's guess. I could do the research but I can't be bothered. Why? You don't want to live here, surely?

"Not really. I was just wondering how much it'd go for. The shop's not making much and if I could buy it as a doer-upper I might make enough to float me for a bit."

Winston gave a brief yelp and we both turned to look at him. "These runner grips and tight," he said. "I've just had my fingers nipped." He showed us his hand, where a pair of blood blisters were already forming."

"You're lucky," I said. "If you'd cut yourself you might be doomed to stay here forever."

"A fate worse than death," he said.

I nodded. "Especially if Meinwen buys it."