Welcome to Murder Mile.

Today, I'm standing on Goring Way in Greenford, West London, UB6.

Two streets south of the fleeing of the bloody butler.

Two streets west of where Reg Christie met Murrell Ede.

And three streets north of the wood,

where the happy campers befriended a naked Satanist.

Coming soon to Murder Mile.

At Nine Goring Quay, currently sits a two-story whitewashed terraced house on a quiet residential street.

Built in the 1920s as part of the West Ridge Estate,

the double doors shows that it's still split into two small flats as it always was,

with one above and one on the ground floor, where tragedy once struck.

In the back garden stands a patio, where in the years since, somebody's mum has probably given herself

a lobster tan while high on Lambini. Someone's dad probably burned the sausages until they're

blacker and more charcoal covered than a coal miner's winkle. And where someone's kids almost certainly

squealed that ear-splitting screech,

which makes every dog shudder, and even deaf people pray for mercy.

Back in 1941, as the Second World War raged on, this too was a family home.

Having been rented to 28-year-old single mother, Phyllis Crocker, and her 18-month-old daughter, Eileen.

At the height of the Blitz, it was a deadly place to live, and although every day she risked being skewered by shrapnel or blown to smithereens.

This lovely little family will be killed by something much closer to home.

My name is Michael. I'm your tour guide and this is Murder Mile.

Episode 276, Killing for Victory Phyllis knew that life was hard, so to survive, she fought even harder.

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