At the time of my story, I was Miss Maria, the dressmaker. As no one knew my past, I was considered an old maid.
Actually, I had married at eighteen, just after the First World War. My husband’s parents owned this house.
It was a very short period of contentment for he, as his parents, died in the Great Influenza Epidemic.
At twenty one I became the owner of this large house with a shop on the ground floor.
In those days the kind of house I speak of was common. Often the upstairs rooms were rented, and usually there was one water closet at the end of the hall to be shared.
Though the term; “live over a shop” has been used derogatorily, I deny. The home my husband left me was a beautiful airy residence of large bedrooms, a parlour, a dining room, a huge kitchen, plus three side rooms which could have been bedrooms, dens, whatever required.
It was too big for me “alone” the community said but I loved the space as I loved being alone.