And of course there was Kathy’s job. Her other life. For almost four decades she had been with the Longman family. She had watched with pride as Phillip Longman soared in his chosen career, basking in his reflected glory whenever his name appeared in the press. He was an important man – a great man – and yet he had always taken the time to make his housekeeper feel needed.

Kathy had the same affection for the rest of the Longman family. For Phillip’s wife, Carol. A wonderful woman, kind-hearted and generous. She had passed at the age of eighty and yet it still seemed she was taken too soon. And for their children; Matthew, Russell and Peter. All of them had been near grown by the time Kathy’s employment had begun, but each had still shown her enough respect and kindness that she cared for them almost like her own.

It had been with great sadness that she had watched the three boys drift from their father in the years since their mother’s death. She had sometimes thought to speak to them on the subject. To give them a piece of her mind. It had never happened. No matter how close she felt to them all, Kathy was not family.

Sadder still had been Longman’s decline over the past five years. Kathy had seen the strength of spirit that had once filled him evaporate as he mourned his late wife. It had been painful to witness yet not once did Kathy think to quit, despite her own advancing years. She had made a commitment to the Longman family that was as solemn to her as the commitment she had made before God on her wedding day. She would see her job to the end.

Her morning routine had changed little over the years. The house was quieter now, with just its single occupant, but that made little difference. As she had on most days for over three decades, Kathy closed the heavy front door behind her, walked to the kitchen, filled a kettle and placed it on the stove. Phillip’s refusal to upgrade to an electric appliance might be amusing but, deep down, Kathy preferred the old ways too.

She turned the stove’s gas knob and clicked for a flame.

Nothing.

Kathy tried again. And again. Still nothing.

She reached out to check for the sensation of expelled gas and immediately felt the problem; a current of air rushing past her outstretched hand. Kathy had not noticed it until now. It had been cold outside as she travelled to work, and she was not yet warmed enough to easily feel the chill breeze that had been sweeping past her.

Kathy turned and followed the stream of cold air back to its source. It brought her to the open pantry door. A door that should have been closed. Feeling her heart beginning to beat a little faster, she looked inside the small room. There was broken glass on the floor, from a small hole in the window. No larger than would be caused by a cricket ball, the hole could easily have been the result of an accident. At least it could have, if the window itself had not been left open.