‘V.’ Francesca stood up, her broad figure doing a good job of blocking some of the cold light that was creeping through the curtains. ‘The police want to talk to him. You have to be brave. Make the call.’ She approached the phone that lay on the bedside table and handed the receiver to her sister.

With a shaking hand, Veronica dialled Andrew’s number. After five rings it was answered.

‘Hello.’ The man on the end of the line sounded groggy.

‘Andrew.’ Veronica closed her eyes at the sound of her son’s voice.

‘Ma?’

‘Yes, it’s me.’ She wanted to continue but the words escaped her.

‘You sound odd.’ Andrew coughed, feeling guilty that he still hadn’t given up smoking, despite promising his mother that he would. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘I…’ She could feel her throat tightening, and Francesca saw the terror freeze across her face.

‘Ma, are you ok?’ He wondered if she was calling for help. Maybe she needed an ambulance or something. But why would she call him?

When Francesca realised it was simply too much for her sister, she carefully took the phone out of her hand and put the heavy responsibility upon herself.

‘Andrew, it’s Francesca.’

‘Aunt Frankie?’ Andrew was now confused as well as nervous. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I need you to sit down, Andrew.’ Her words were calm but firm. ‘I have to tell you something.’

‘Sit down? Why?’

‘Promise me you will sit down now, dear.’

‘Fine, okay, I’m sitting down.’

Francesca wondered if this was true but had no option except to believe him. ‘It’s your father, Andrew. He… well, it’s not going to be easy for you to hear this, but he’s dead.’

The line fell totally silent and Francesca wondered if he’d fainted. ‘Andrew, are you there?’

‘What are you talking about?’ The disbelief in his voice was tangible.

‘I’m so sorry, young man. His body was discovered early Friday morning. He was found in the bookshop.’

‘Of course he was.’

The flippant remark shocked Francesca. ‘Do you understand what I’m telling you? Your father is dead.’

‘Dead in the shop. Yes, I heard you.’

‘This is no joke, Andrew, you understand that?’ She couldn’t fathom his reaction.

‘No joke. Dad’s dead. In the shop.’

It was Francesca’s turn to fall silent.

‘Well, I always said he’d rather die than leave work.’

‘What did you say?’ Francesca was horrified.

‘You want me to pretend I’m upset? I won’t. I won’t do it. He was my dad only when it suited him. He loved that shop much more than he ever loved me. Everyone knew that.’

‘This is no time for childish jealousy!’

‘I’m over it, Aunt Frankie. Have been for a long time. I guess if he died in the shop then at least he died happy.’