Leona Doss arrived at the housing association with a folded measuring tape in her pocket and a list of questions on the back of a supermarket receipt.
“First,” she said, before anyone could offer her tea, “does the bedroom window open?”
Miri, the housing volunteer, blinked. “Yes.”
“Can we see it?”
“That was the plan.”
“Good.” Leona looked at Yara. “You said they might want us to sign before we saw it.”
“I said they might ask.”
“And I said I wouldn’t.”
