Moving from the slums of Tar Pit Terrace to the bungalows of Bay Tree Crescent was a social wrench for both Edward Monkjack and his wife Janet. Here the roads were lined with trees rather than dead dogs.
It had been the awkward and somewhat embarrassing demise of Edward's in-laws, that provided the means necessary for Janet to propel herself up the social ladder, bypassing a couple of rungs on the way. Edward reluctantly followed along, never quite letting go of his working class, rat-catcher roots.
The early 1950s saw the emergence of a new middle class. Bank managers, investment brokers and insurance agents made up this new social elite, and they dominated the crescent. It was unlikely that common working-class people, such as the Monkjackís, would be invited in for cocktails, or indeed offered membership to the golf club. Edward however, knew that where there was brass, there was muck. If they wanted to make life difficult for him, which they did, he would go digging. They all had a secret.
