‘Good, excellent.’ The agent was pensive for a moment. ‘It’s Saturday, nothing can happen until Monday when solicitors are back at work. If you would like to go to my office and put down a ten thousand-pound deposit – entirely refundable – as a show of good faith, I’ll tell the couple who are coming that the house is under offer. I’d be prepared to give you a four- to six-week window to exchange contracts. How does that sound?’

The Danes looked at each other. ‘We might be able to move in before Christmas!’ Emily said.

Rinsing then soaping his hands again, Jason Danes nodded enthusiastically and said, ‘Very fair.’

‘I’ll even throw in some containers of soap!’

Neither of them smiled.

After an awkward moment, Jordan beamed again. ‘In which case, Mr and Mrs Danes, I look forward to handing you the keys and to formally welcoming you to your new home. You won’t regret this, I can assure you. This is a very special house. You are going to find it very creative, very creative indeed.’

3

Friday 14 December

Maurice and Claudette Penze-Weedell peered out through the slats of the blinds of Arden Lodge, 36 Lakeview Drive, watching the activity going on across the street at number forty-seven. They were happy that, after two months, they would no longer be the only people living in the Cold Hill Park development. They were also very curious to catch a glimpse of their new neighbours.

‘Not too wide, dear,’ Maurice said. ‘They’ll notice, and we don’t want to seem nosey.’ Maurice had originally suggested changing to net curtains, like the ones they’d had in their previous home, which prevented passers-by from seeing in while still enabling them to see out. But Mrs P-W – as he referred to his wife – had put her foot down, saying net curtains were far too common. As owners of the grand show house – and the first residents of Cold Hill Park – she insisted they had to set standards. Blinds it had to be, and vertical ones, in her view, were so much more elegant than horizontal ones.

Maurice agreed with Mrs P-W, or ‘High Command’, as he called her when with his friends. He always agreed with her. It was, he had learned over their years together – the very many years – the route to a happy marriage. ‘Happy wife, happy life,’ he had already told all the regulars, several times, at his new local the Crown, down in the village. Well perhaps more accurately, he reflected, a tolerable life. Although his joke at their housewarming party – which, coincidentally and economically, had doubled as their thirtieth wedding anniversary celebration – that he would have got less than thirty years for murder, had fallen somewhat flat.

‘It’s a rather grand design for a not very grand-sized house, don’t you think, Maurice?’

‘I think it’s quite attractive.’

‘Quite attractive? It’s like a sort of bonsai stately home. Gables in the attic and that ludicrous chimney, like the house is wearing a top hat – it’s just sooooo pretentious. And with the lake behind it and all. Honestly!’