Close to Death

He sounded concerned and Roderick realised that he hadn’t spoken for some time. Nor had he taken a breath. The letter seemed to have broken into different pieces in front of his eyes and it took an effort of concentration to put it back together again. In fact, it was simple. Giles and Lynda Kenworthy had applied to build a swimming pool and some sort of changing area, bar and Jacuzzi in their garden. The eastern lawn. That was the strip of land that ran towards his own house, directly in front of Felicity’s bedroom. Roderick read the application a second time and then a third.

The Kenworthys wanted to take away the one thing that still mattered to Felicity. They were going to replace the lawn and the magnolia tree, the flower beds and the simple, uncluttered view with . . .

A swimming pool! A Jacuzzi!

Standing in the hallway, Roderick heard the screams of children, the splash of water, the chatter of the invited guests, the explosion of champagne corks. He saw steam billowing out of the hot tub and smelled the chlorine in the air. And this changing room! The application didn’t say how tall it was or in what style it was going to be built. It could be anything from a Scandinavian log cabin to a Japanese pagoda! What was he supposed to do? Could he move Felicity to another part of the house? Why should he?

They wouldn’t get away with it. They couldn’t. Richmond Council was famous when it came to planning applications like this. They would do anything to preserve the historical and environmental value of the area. Roderick would protest. Everyone in the close would do the same. There was no way this was going through.

But even as he stood there, crumpling the single page in his hand, with Damien staring at him and asking him questions he couldn’t hear, he knew that the first volley in a war had just been fired. Giles Kenworthy would have lawyers. He might have friends in the council. He was the sort of man who always got what he wanted and he wouldn’t have applied for planning permission if he didn’t think there was a good chance of success. But Roderick was going to stop him.

He remembered the meeting at The Stables. It couldn’t have been better timed. Everyone in Riverview Close would have received the same letter.

It was a fight to the death and it was starting now.

6

That evening, from half past seven onwards, the residents of Riverview Close gathered at The Stables, the home of Adam and Teri Strauss, who were hosting the event.

As punctual as he had always been during his time as a barrister, Andrew Pennington was the first to arrive, wearing slacks and a V-neck jersey, carrying a small bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine. He was followed, a few minutes later, by Tom Beresford and his wife, who came empty-handed. Dr Beresford, having been held up at work, had wolfed down a quick supper and had come without changing his clothes. His wife, Gemma, looked more demure in a black suit and one of her own creations, a silver serpent necklace curving around her throat. Neither of them was in a good mood. May Winslow and Phyllis Moore were the next to appear, bringing with them a box of chocolate bullets, part of a consignment that had arrived at The Tea Cosy that afternoon. Their neighbour, Roderick Browne, was right behind them, accompanied by – to everyone’s surprise – his wife, Felicity, who had decided that the meeting was important enough to be worth what was, for her, a challenging journey.

There were nine of them, standing and sitting in the main living space where, just fifteen hours earlier, the single chess game had been lost. The room looked beautiful, with low lighting, fresh flowers in porcelain vases and piano music by Chopin playing out of hidden speakers. The many shelves of books also displayed some of the awards Adam Strauss had won throughout his career. The laptop computers had been cleared away, but there were still half a dozen chessboards on display, beautiful sets that Strauss had been given as prizes: wood, ivory, porcelain and glass. Spread out on the long table were different plates of food that Teri had prepared, including the bao buns, egg tarts and pineapple bread that connected her with her childhood. There were bottles of wine and spirits in the kitchen, a fruit salad, a cheese board – everything you would expect at a party, apart from, that is, the atmosphere. As the various guests waited, there was an unmistakable feeling of suspense.

Giles and Lynda Kenworthy had not yet arrived. It wasn’t surprising that they had chosen to be late, but there was one question on everyone’s mind. Would they arrive at all? The Kenworthys knew only too well that the evening had been designed to address some of the problems that had arisen in Riverview Close, but perhaps they had realised that they were the problems and so had decided to stay away. That said, it was only a quarter to eight. The doorbell would surely ring at any moment.