2. How the Other Half Live

It took them twenty minutes to reach Bourton-on-the-Water, Dez, both hands locked on the steering wheel, talking football as the car glided along the icy roads.

But Liam didn’t say much back. All he wanted was to get this over with.

As they turned into the High Street, he saw the restaurants and pubs were now closing up; just a handful of people still out, all probably shivering as they gazed at the Christmas tree that rose from the River Windrush, the lights sparkling on the water.

All right for some, thought Liam, watching the groups taking selfies in front of the lights. Happy Holidays!

Yeah, and soon they’d be heading home to their cosy firesides or maybe their posh hotel rooms, kids all excited, Christmas day just a couple of days away.

They moved along the High Street — only now, Dez slowed right down, the car creeping along.

“Okay, Liam — here we go,” he said, nodding to a house on a corner, coming up on the driver’s side. “Check it out.”

Liam didn’t need to be told which house was the house. He’d spent long enough in the summer working on it, eight o’clock morning start, six o’clock finish on a good day, five days a week, sometimes even six.

Worst job of his life, working at the Marchmonts’ place.

And here he was again.

Though not to do any work. Not really.

Set back from the road behind a beech hedge, with the old Cotswold stone immaculately renovated, and inside … six bedrooms. The whole place surrounded by one full acre of perfectly landscaped garden and a sweeping drive.

Easily worth a cool two million, so he’d been told. Maybe even more. He’d sworn to himself he’d never come back after all that … trouble.

And yet … here he was.

“Any lights on?” said Dez.

Liam had a better angle. The car moved at walking pace.

“Seeing … one upstairs, one down,” said Liam, peering across Dez as they passed the house. “Them’s the ones they always leave on when they go out.”

“Cool,” said Dez. “Word is they won’t be back before one, so we got ourselves plenty of time.”

Liam wondered where Dez had got that specific information. But he didn’t ask. Less he knew, the better.

Dez sped up and they drove all the way to the end of the High Street. Then he turned, and they came back, slowing down as they passed the house again, before taking a turn onto the little lane on the corner that ran alongside the garden.

This narrow lane, Liam knew, was unobserved, quiet, and best of all, unlit. With a helpful side door cutting through the dry-stone wall that gave access to the rear of the house.

Dez stopped, turned off the engine.

He leaned into the back seat, lifted up a couple of black, nylon sacks and gave one to Liam. Then he took two pairs of latex gloves and handed a pair to Liam while he slipped on his own pair.

Then he gave Liam a headband light.

“Listen. Don’t turn it on until we’re inside,” he said.

Liam wanted to say, “I’m not an idiot”, but he knew this wasn’t the time to get on the wrong side of Dez.

He hardly knew the guy. But he suspected Dez wasn’t someone you should cross. Now he watched as Dez flicked a switch on the interior light console. To stop it coming on automatically, he guessed.

“All right then. Let’s go,” said Dez and they both got out of the car, feet crunching on the frozen snow. Liam pressed his door shut as quietly as he could, pulled his parka hood up tight as he could, the air icy. He caught sight of a quarter moon just rising above the outline of the village.

The light was barely enough to show the way.

“You lead,” said Dez, and Liam walked along the line of the wall until he reached the door, Dez right behind him.

They stood for a few seconds, eyes adjusting, both listening. Liam shivered. So damn cold.

“You okay? What’s up?” said Dez, and Liam saw the guy grin. “Scared maybe?”

“Don’t like hanging around out here,” said Liam. Though, yes, he did feel scared.

Then Dez slipped out a thin metal rod from his coat and leaned into the door frame to jimmy it open.

“This door better not have its own alarm,” he said.

“It doesn’t,” said Liam.

Dez put his weight on the metal bar, nothing happening. But then with a loud crunch, the door burst open so he almost fell through into the garden.

Liam followed him quickly and pushed the door shut behind them, both of them breathing hard, listening for any reaction, any hint at all that they’d been heard.

But the village was silent.

They were in.

*

Liam continued to take the lead as they crossed the snow-covered drive and reached the side of the big house, both of them crouching low in the shadows.

No cars parked outside the twin garage — a good sign.

Now, Liam worked his way around the house, Dez close behind him, until they came to a small terrace by the back door.

Still no sound from inside.

“All right,” said Dez. “Where’s the key?”

Liam stepped back and looked at the pots and tubs of shrubs that lined the terrace and crowded around the back door. He’d told Dez that the Marchmonts kept a spare key hidden here.

He knew exactly which pot he was looking for — one with a small lemon tree in it. He remembered how amazed he’d been that you could grow real lemons — right here in England!

He scanned the line of tubs. But now, tonight … somehow it all looked different. Then he realised with a shock: the tubs had all been moved around since he’d worked here.

“Come on pal, get a move on,” said Dez.

Liam felt a wave of panic. This could screw up everything. What if the lemon tree wasn’t here? What if the key was under another tub?

But then — he spotted the lemon tree, right at the end of the line. He went over, tilted up the tub, and saw the heavy old key.

Yes!

He grabbed it, came back to Dez, held it up.

“Told you I knew where it was, didn’t I?” said Liam.

“Good man,” said Dez, grinning. “Never doubted you for a minute. Now — you do remember the alarm code, right?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” said Liam.

“All right, mate. No need to get touchy,” said Dez. “So, second we’re in, you punch in that code, tick-tock, eh? And we get to work.”

Liam stepped up to the door, inserted the key in the lock. Tried to turn it.

But — the key didn’t turn. He looked at Dez, not understanding.

“What’s up?” said Dez.

“Dunno,” said Liam. “I think … I think maybe it’s not locked.”

“What?”

“What if someone’s inside?” said Liam, suddenly nervous. “Come home early?”

“Nah, no way,” said Dez. “No cars. No lights on. Place has got to be empty.”

Liam knew from his time here that sometimes the Marchmonts didn’t bother to lock up. So maybe that’s what they’d done tonight? Gone out in a rush, not checked the back door?

Crazy, he thought, taking a chance like that. But then again — there was nothing that rich people could possibly do that would surprise him.

“Come on then,” said Dez. “Just do it.”

Liam knew he had no choice. He reached for the handle, turned it — and pushed.

And the door opened. Liam stepped in quickly, waiting for the alarm to start its beeping countdown.

But nothing. Silence.

“Well, well — how about that?” said Dez, by his side. “Stupid idiots forgot to set the alarm too!”

Door unlocked. No alarm. Liam couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Surely it shouldn’t be this easy?

But he also knew sometimes Hugh Marchmont and his wife Caitlyn couldn’t be bothered activating the system when they went out.

Too many false alarms with their daughter Skye turning up at all hours, forgetting her keys and breaking in with her mates from school, all drunk or even worse.

He also knew that — for some reason — neither Hugh nor Caitlyn liked the idea of some phone app logging when either of them came in or out of the house.

Too much to hide from each other maybe? Too many secrets …?

“No alarm. Okay — no need to rush then,” said Dez, and they both stepped in to the dark rear lobby.

Again, they waited, listening. Liam knew this area of the house well: it was the route he and his apprentice Alfie had to take every morning when they were installing the Marchmonts’ elaborate kitchen.

Seemed a lifetime ago.

To his left — he saw the boot room. Just to his right — the laundry room. Only silence — just the hum of the freezers, the sound of the boiler chugging away keeping the place nice and warm.

With a nod to Dez, Liam set off into the darker interior of the house, navigating from memory, with just the dim light of the moon seeping through the windows.

Through the kitchen — even in this pale light — Liam recognised the marble worktop he’d had so much hassle and real pain installing just months ago. He ran his hand over it, the stone cool to the touch.

He brushed aside the memory.

Time to concentrate.

Time … to get revenge.

*

Into the hall now with its curved staircase, stone...