To The End | Gramon

Chapter Two

As Agent Albarn approached the house, he realised that 'rich' was an understatement.

It was practically a mansion. Out front were vast sweeping gardens, beautifully kept, and small fountains dotted down the path. The mansion's walls shot up into the sky, like a castle. Beautiful brickwork designs and bay windows. The roof sloped up into turrets.

If anything, Damon wasn't going to be complaining about his accomodation.

The car pulled up closer, and he could see a man and a woman standing out the front. He recognised the man as the one in the photo. Serious, brooding and enigmatic, it was Graham Coxon. He did have an air of handsomeness about him, though Damon couldn't place why. And his wife was most likely the lady. Petite, with a dark brown bob and a white dress.

"That's them," the driver said. "Mr. and Mrs. Coxon."

"Yes, I gathered," replied Damon. "I keep forgetting your name, sorry. You are?"

"Dave Rowntree. Everyone just calls me Dave, except the master, who prefers to call me by my surname. I've been the driver for the Coxons for the last five years."

"Right. And what are they like, Dave?"

"Fairly private, I must say. I hate to speak this way of the master and mistress, but if we're being honest, they haven't really got a marriage any more."

"Oh?" Damon leaned forward in his seat. "Why's that?"

"The master keeps more to himself nowadays. They barely speak to each other. Both of them have their secrets. But they put on a professional air to anyone they meet. I know it's cruel of me to say sir, but I think the mistress is having an affair. Or two."

The car pulled up and Damon got out, smoothing his tuxedo.

"Good morning," said Mr. Coxon. "You must be Damon Albarn. I see you answered my advertisement for a valet. We're glad to have you. And this is my wife, Frances."

"Bonjour," she smiled, staring at him intently with big blue eyes and extending out her hand. Not for Damon to shake, but to kiss. It caught him a little off guard, but then he remembered what Dave had said.

"Bonjour, Madame," he said, kissing her hand. Mr. Coxon watched, but didn't flinch. Damon could already sense tension.

"Come inside," Mr. Coxon said. "I will show you to your room."

Damon picked up his bags and walked inside. The inside was even more illustrious than the outside. Four grand staircases ascended in different directions. Polished marble floors. A glistening chandelier dangled from the ceiling. Arched hallways. Plants and sculptures everywhere you walked. Famed paintings hung from the walls. 

"It's a lovely house you have, Mr. Coxon," Damon said, attempting to make conversation. "Lovely paintings. Lovely interior design."

"Oh, you like the paintings?" he replied. "Some of them are my own work. I used to paint a lot in my spare time."

"They're quite good."

He turned around. Mr. Coxon gave him a small smile. Damon had never seen him smile. It looked rather nice.

"This is your room," he said, as they turned left into another hallway.

It was supposed to be one of the less ostentatious rooms, but it looked more luxurious than anything Damon had ever stayed in before. 

"I'll give you a few minutes to unpack, but then I will call upon you again. I'll ring this bell and you will meet me back where we walked in. I must make sure you meet the other staff. You all have a big job to prepare for. There is work to be done."