Sweet Revenge thriller

Chapter One

SEVERAL MONTHS AGO.

'ATHENA, COME AND SEE WHO'S HERE,' my mother urges in a muffled voice after I've stepped out of my car and am immediately engulfed into her arms, my head ending up nestled amongst her tousled blonde curls.

I'd driven the two hour journey from the city through the country side and the quaint towns one sees on postcards complete with stone washed buildings and their thatched rooves, rambling rose gardens amongst lush fields edged with stone fences. My parent's house in Cottonsdale is one street behind the main street that boasts a famous bakery and several antique shops—city folk arrive in droves praying for a bargain, a lost antique they hope the owners have overlooked. It never happens of course, well especially not at Damien's Antiques Ltd. Damien is a shrewd businessman who spends all of his spare time searching the internet for lost treasures. And I should know his habits, I myself have spent forever trying to get him to notice me. He is quite a catch. Good looking, modest and...well, just a hunk! But, after far too many years to count, I have only seen him smile at me as someone he knows, a country gal who'd left the village to seek her fame and fortune in the city.

I click out of my thoughts as my mother pushes me back from our embrace. 'Now, let's look at you Athena. Oh dear. You're looking a bit peaky,' she says. 'You know you really should wear a bit of makeup. A pink lipstick would make all the difference.'

Not. Going. To. Happen! I like my clear skinned natural look. It works well with my checker shirts and Levi's.

'Are you feeding yourself properly? Is your boss making sure you're not overworked?' she adds.

I'm fine,' I say, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice. Hey, she asks me this every visit. I am feeding myself properly and my boss doesn't overwork me...well, I guess he does. But in all fairness, I let him. I never seem to be able to say No, so I'm frequently at work after hours. But I don't mind. I really love my job. I was offered the Debtors Control Officer at a large drugs corporation at the age of 27 and have worked there happily in the back office for the last four years. It was hard work getting the job in the first place but as luck would have it I have determination on my side and what I lack in brains I studied and studied until I reached my goal...a job in middle management...which turned out to be the Debtors Control Officer.

'Have you seen anything of that nice young man lately? Um, what's his name again?' she asks.

I don't need to help her out with 'Sam.' She knows damned well Sam and I broke up nearly a year ago. And there's been no one since then. And I like it that way.

'I like him,' she says and then we walk up the cobbled path between bunches of bluebells and pink daisies and I take in the fresh cool air. Not a hint of petrol, smoke, no sirens, no screeching of loud brakes and nothing to hear except the chattering of fluttering birds overhead and the distant laughter of a couple of teenagers walking further down the street.

The wooden oak door of the stone dwelling opens up into a foyer which in turn leads into their kitchen to the left and their dining room to the right. My mother's curls bounce as she steps ahead of me and we walk into the darkened dining room. I swear the gloomy wallpaper is original, of brown gothic figures, but fortunately my parents have artwork covering much of the walls. My mother has decorated the room with light wooden Scandinavian furniture and her white brocade curtains are open allowing a section of the room to be awash in mid-day sun. It crosses my mind yet again that my parent's do not have to live in this ancient old cottage, they could in fact buy the whole Godsdammned town of Cottonsdale. But, my mother always says, 'This is where we set up home, and Athena, it's not nice to flash your money at the neighbours you have grown to love.'

A man, not my father, has his back to me and is standing in the darkened section of the room in front of the fireplace studying a photo of me. He turns. 'Athena, how nice to see you again.'