Chapter 1

I first met Eve Chatsworth at the behest of her husband, Aubrey. We worked for the same company, Sunrooms. We supplied and fitted double glazing units, conservatories, Fascias and conservatory furniture. I was one of the working cogs in the business, and he was the best performing salesman. That he was an egotistical, condescending, patronising bastard, was neither here nor there. He was the most successful agent we had. It was typical of him to enter my office that day without knocking, and hand me a package.

"John. Do me a favour. I am pushed for time, an appointment that could be a big sale, and I promised my wife this necklace, the clasp has been repaired. Run it over to her, would you?" I was up to my eyeballs with work, mostly going through his fuck-ups. He may be the most successful salesman, but he was also the one with the shoddiest of paperwork. No! Shoddiest is not the right word, deceitful would be better. Getting customers to sign incomplete order schedules, in order that later he can add extras they hadn't agreed to, was deceitful. But he seemed to have the gift of talking them round usually offering them discounts and free services to mollify them. Even with the discounts it boosted his commission.

His request put me in a quandary. I was overloaded with work, and taking an hour out of my day to do his 'favour' would mean my working late. I did have the option of refusing, but that may not have been sensible. Aubrey was vindictive. If I refused, he would make sure that I would pay later, by giving me so many problems of administration that my work day would extend from eight hours to ten or even twelve hours, in addition he was the blue-eyed boy as far as Bob Sellick, who owned the business, was concerned and Bob would rate the sale more highly than any piffling paperwork. I took the umbrage and the package, locked my files away and left.

I had never been to his house before. I knew where it was though, in Sutton Coldfield just to the north of Birmingham. The Royal Borough of Sutton Coldfield was a medieval town, granted a charter by Henry the Eighth. A bounty for the local Bishop who had been helpful in one of the King's divorces. The town was also mentioned in one of Shakespeare's plays. The actual area where Aubrey lived was an imposing location known as Little Aston Park. Private roads, large detached houses set in their own grounds, they oozed money and privilege. It was one of those places where properties scorned such conveniences as numbers, they had names! So you couldn't find your destination by following a number sequence, the area subtly reminding you, that if you didn't know where the house was, you had no business here. I drove the grass-verged roads slowly, looking for 'Sycamores'. Every house was different, those that you could see as many were set back behind woodland and along with those differences the placing of the house name was different too. Some placed the name inside the porch; others favoured rustic signs at the entrance off the road. They were tacked to trees, neat signs at the kerb and on garage doors. One even had the name created in wrought iron set in a plinth. Each house had to be scanned, and rejected, taking up to a minute to find the name and drive on. I eventually found 'Sycamores' and cautiously navigated the curving drive. It had taken me nearly twenty minutes from entering the Park to find the house.

It's strange when you meet someone's wife for the first time. You know the husband, and mentally endow the wife with his characteristics, attitude and physical appearance. When Eve Chatsworth opened the door I was staggered, she was the total opposite of Aubrey. He was loud, pompous and aggressive. She was quiet, kind and mannered. He was built large, florid of face and sweated a lot, Eve was petite, elegant, and fragrant, in her early thirties I would guess and had that air about her that told you the beauty without was merely a reflection of the beauty within.

One similarity they did have was dress code. Aubrey always appeared in suits, the best of Savile Row hung from his shoulders, immaculately tailored to his frame. Suits that always seemed to be freshly cleaned and pressed that morning. Eve was dressed in a way most women would for an evening out. A little black dress fashionably short, a gold chain necklace, which hung to a point between her small breasts, and three inch high black heels, her make-up, was perfect. It was incongruous as you don't expect that on a Monday mid-morning.

"Can I help you?" She asked politely.

"Mrs. Chatsworth?"

"Yes."

"I am John Birch from Sunrooms." I introduced myself. "Your husband has asked me to drop off this package for you." Her face cleared and lit up.

"Oh, Mr. Birch, it is so kind of you to come all this way. Thank you. Aubrey has spoken of you. Please come in, would you like a coffee, or tea?" I wanted to refuse and get back to the office, but her offer was so genuine that I had to accept.

"Thank you Mrs. Chatsworth. A coffee would be very acceptable." She walked ahead of me through the foyer; it had to be described as a foyer in this house, entrance hall sounded so down-market; and into a kitchen that was almost bigger than my flat. Gleaming stainless steel abounded with polished marble work surfaces everywhere. Not one single item was out of place, did anyone actually cook in here?