Alice would not normally read the free paper.

"Just full of adverts no use to anybody," she would say to herself and toss it in the pile under the sink ready for recycling.

But this ad caught her eye. It was different and sort of intriguing. So she patted her short, fair curly hair, settled herself down tidily at the kitchen table - and read on.

Then there was a PO box number for replies.

She pondered the words carefully - 'personal danger', 'good rates of pay', 'short term contract'. What could it mean? Surely an employer couldn't put an employee into personal danger deliberately. There must be a law against it.

In Alice's tidy world, there was a place for everything and this advert didn't fit. But she remembered another ad she had replied to. It had led to quite a bit of excitement in her life and the memory still left her tingling. Perhaps this could be the same. After all, what could really go wrong. The house was tidy, the bills were paid and her husband was preoccupied with his work at the Bank. She had time on her hands. There could be little to lose and perhaps a little bit of (carefully controlled) excitement to be had.

The letter she penned gave brief details about herself, enclosed a photo (requested in the small print) and asked for a job description.

'Keep it formal', she thought to herself.

'Just because the job's a bit unusual doesn't mean that they can't observe proper procedure'.

The thought of them observing proper procedure reassured her. Proper procedures kept everything organised and efficient. Even 'dangerous' situations could be safe with 'proper procedures'.

Alice stamped the letter from the supply always kept in the top drawer of the sideboard in the kitchen and she hummed contentedly as she made the short journey down to the post box.

Spring was coming and the trees were just beginning to bud. Soon they would be bearing brightly coloured flowers. Tree blossom was always nice to look at, she thought, but somehow made the front garden look so untidy when the it fell to then ground in early Summer.

Her heels clicked on the pavement. The sound reminded her of the typewriter she had used at the accountants where she worked for the first four years of her marriage. No need for her to work now. Tom made enough to keep them comfortably, especially now the kids were out of College and in their own jobs.

The suburban semi-detached houses to her left and right seemed strangely quiet. If there were other ladies, like Alice, with time on their hands waiting for their families returned to the fold, they were not showing themselves. Alice wondered how many of them had been curious enough to consider answering the ad.

The letter box appeared in front of her.

'Last chance to change your mind', she told herself and then quickly dropped it through the slot before indecision got the better of her.

Then she dismissed the matter from her mind. There were some small fresh grocery items to purchase and it was a while since she had bought any clothes. Perhaps a trouser suit would be suitable for the interview. Less fussy and constraining than the slim line knee length skirts and white blouse she normally wore.

'More appropriate for an action lady',  she thought as she jumped onto the bus that would take her down into town.

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The car that arrived to collect Alice, two days later, from outside her house was large and smart. Alice had never paid much attention to differences between car manufacturers. A car was a car - it got you from home to school on the kids run or took you to the supermarket for the weeks shopping.

However, even Alice, could tell that this car was something extra. It smelt different - a sort of mixture of leather polishes with a tang of something indecipherably spicy. It purred along silently through the Surrey roads, like the big cat that was part of it's trade mark and was driven by a smart chauffeur who very politely called her 'madam' but refused to be drawn into conversation.

Town houses soon disappeared from view and were replaced by country hedges and small villages. Eventually, a huge pair of black and gilt wrought iron gates slid automatically open and the car swept majestically up the drive to a huge house of spires and cornices. Alice was enthralled. It was like being carried along on a magic carpet - and all for just answering an ad in the free paper.

The house entrance and hall were as large and imposing as the gently curving private drive. Once inside, the chauffeur handed her over to a dark haired man wearing the serious professional smile and style of a butler. He wouldn't talk either.

The room she now (quite nervously) entered was huge and lavishly furnished with sofas, couches and all manner of soft furnishing. Colourful drapes hung along the wall giving the typically English lounge an oriental appearance. A large desk stood in the window and it was in this direction the butler pointed her before quietly disappearing from view.

The plush pile on then carpet deadened the sound of her heels. The man looked up, tensed, appraised her quickly and then visibly relaxed.

"My dear, how kind of you to come out to see me." His accent, although it matched his traditional Middle East clothes, was not strong. He came round the table and shook Alice's hand. His hands were particularly soft for a man, she thought. Not hands use to physical work.

With a gentle pressure on her elbow, he directed her to an ornate sofa situated in front of his desk and took position at the other end. His eyebrows were very dark and his eyes hazel brown and he was quite tall. He sat down in stages, rearranging his robes as he lowered himself decorously onto the sumptuous cushions.