The Drive was in one of the quieter, cleaner, more well-heeled parts of town. Wealthy professionals and families with inherited means inhabited the spacious Victorian villas and semi-detached houses, adorned with impressive gothic features. It was a very desirable neighbourhood in a very leafy suburb.
Large mature gardens surrounded the properties, screening the dwellings from prying eyes. Only daily charladies and the unfortunate postman who had this elongated beat, up and down the gravel drives, could boast of getting near to the wealthier population who lived here. They were a mystery to the common man and vice versa.
Number 75 was roughly half way along the street, and the elderly gentleman who lived there with his housekeeper, unfortunately died quite suddenly with no close family to mourn him. The house was to be sold and all effects go to auction. All at once, there was a void, a vacancy in the well-ordered street. Residents pondered their potential new neighbours as they ate their breakfasts and sipped their tea. It might be rather nice to see new blood in the area .. perhaps a high court judge or even someone from the television. As long as it wasn’t a preening footballer with a noisy, flashy car to lower the tone!
Several bidders put down offers. Discreet gossip had it that they were all rejected, although the amounts had risen ridiculously high, even for The Drive. Neighbours to number 75 were smug in the knowledge that the house next door was now worth millions and their own properties had risen in value accordingly. Everyone was thrilling to meet the new owners as a moving date was announced. Many invited the newcomers to drinks or supper, with a calling card pushed through the letterbox. Perhaps the Rimmingtons, the new owners, would care to join the golf and country club too? With their obvious wealth, the hefty fees should be no problem at all. Details were very slow to emerge… it was accepted that low key discretion was good. Anticipation grew…
Delivery vans and company trucks arrived so repairs and alterations could be made to the property. A gardening company cleared up the vegetation around the house. A new patio was installed and a large summer house erected. The neighbours approved. One day another company vehicle arrived to install a full-sized snooker table… the house could certainly take it, although not many in The Drive had their own. An odd choice perhaps, but the neighbours still cautiously approved… A luxury new kitchen was fitted. Bedrooms were decorated. Rumours of children abounded. Parents mulled over the potential bragging rights if their little ones were associated with the newcomers. It opened up all sorts of new possibilities… this could only be a good thing.
The moving date was drawing ever nearer, and the Rimmingtons in turn, were also growing very excited. As the children played in the garden of their rented accommodation, Mrs Rimmington watched through the window and adjusted her top. This new bra she had purchased may realign your curves, but it was damn uncomfortable! Her old worn underwear never chaffed, or held her unwieldy bosoms in such close confinement. Her husband finished his cigarette, flicked it onto the polished floor and trod on it to walk to the fridge.
“Fancy another beer, love?” he asked. She nodded and accepted another bottle. The pizza for lunch would be arriving soon. She knocked on the window to call the children in.
“Kelly still flinches when we play ‘chicken’! “ Shouted Wayne scathingly as they all trooped in.
“She’s just a scaredy cat, like all girls!”
A noisy fight started between him and his sisters. His three elder brothers casually ignored it, watching tv on the sofa and drinking cola…. The Rimmingtons had left their home estate when their anonymous jackpot lottery ticket landed them £54 million and more. Not wishing to be kept back by old associations, they were all ready now to move up in the world. This time tomorrow, they would move into their new home, on The Drive …