It was a perfect day. A magical day. A day when, quite suddenly, impossible dreams might transform themselves into commonplace realities. It was a joyous day, bursting with infinite promises.

Spring sunlight streamed into the room, painting wide bright bands across the soft beige carpet. A gentle breeze, sighing through the open window, stirred the di-aphanous curtains and wafted in the heady perfume of boronia from the garden outside. The room was silent, poised to absorb the atmosphere of the day ahead. Generous in its proportions, the room’s furnishings reflected both the prosperity and the good taste of its sole occupant.

Vonni Eldridge, dressed in bottle-green velvet housegown and slippers, was seated in one of the huge well-upholstered armchairs; her feet tucked up beside her. She was studiously scanning a newspaper through spectacles perched on the end of her small straight nose. From time to time, she made a circle on the paper with a small gold pencil. On the side table beside her stood a half-filled coffee cup, its surface beginning to display the telltale grey slick of age.