The crater was still smoking from the explosion. Krystal assumed that it was because of the gas pipes but then her area of expertise wasn’t really structural engineering and this was not the time to be worrying about such details. There were pitiful scraps of material strewn around the site of what had been Chestnut Court. Chestnut Court had been erected following the demolition of the nursery school and hadn’t been popular with the residents of Ashton-Upon-Lee who were less than keen on any variation to the street scene regardless of whether or not it was actually an improvement. Being situated one hundred yards from the station and five minute’s walk to the town, it was a prime target for hasty developers. It was a prime target for Krystal, too, but not in the way it turned out. Krystal loved to shop. Krystal loved to shop on a grand scale. Most of her shopping was actually done in London during lunch hours. Living in suburban Ashton-Upon-Lee, far from being the oasis of calm away from the retail opportunism of London she had sought, had offered her a more intimate and charming shopping experience altogether. Dress Sense in The Square, occupying a quaint eighteenth century building facing the bandstand had opened just after Krystal moved in. The enthusiastic owner was happy to reserve garments, shoes and accessories in Krystal’s favourite colours and styles for collection at the weekend. It was just a shame that her wardrobe in the bedroom of her flat on the flimsy top floor of Chestnut Court collapsed under the weight of her 783 dresses and 436 pairs of shoes.
The bricks and mortar were gone but the carefully wrapped clothes survived the domino effect of the falling masonry and were perched neatly on top. What an investment.
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