Chapter Text
The people of Chilmark were quite ordinary, and none were more ordinary than the inhabitants of St Francis Street. Nothing interesting had ever happened in this dull little corner of Hampshire, and the inhabitants were quite happy to leave it that way, thank you very much. What would retirees and depressed twenty-somethings who couldn’t afford to move out of their parents’ homes want with excitement? The answer was nothing, and they were resolute in this matter.
Except for one house.
The people of Chilmark did not like to refer to the dreadful inhabitants of Number 12, St Francis Street. As far as they were concerned, nobody lived there, or at least nobody unusual lived there. This pretence was something of a peace treaty: in exchange for being left alone, the people of Chilmark would pretend that their dreadful neighbours did not exist. This was best for all parties, and would have worked quite well during the lockdowns of the previous two years, since it was considerably easier to ignore Dr John Smith when it was illegal for him to walk next to you.
There was just one problem.
The inhabitants of Number 12, St Francis Street had never been any good at leaving well enough alone.