Josephine heard the knocking on her door, and she guessed it was Dana – no one else bothered to knock. She plastered a smile on her face, and tried to look relaxed, but she knew that Dana had heard everything that had been said between her and Michael. Dana slipped into the room, and Josephine saw that she was holding a letter.

‘This was in the post box outside the gates, Josephine. It’s handwritten and addressed to you. I thought I should give it to you straight away. You know, just in case . . .’

Josephine took the letter from her warily. ‘Thank you.’

Dana waited a few seconds, expecting Josephine to open it, but she didn’t. Instead, she placed it carefully on the table beside her chair.

Dana smiled easily. ‘Don’t you think you should open it, Josephine? It might be important, with what’s going on at the moment.’

Josephine smiled right back at her. ‘I’ll open it later, if it’s all the same to you. How did Jake get on today?’

Dana shrugged. ‘He had a good day, he’s a good kid. He enjoyed the Mass, he hasn’t stopped going on about it.’

‘Good. Bring him up to me after his tea.’

Dana nodded. ‘Of course. I’d best get on, then.’

She left the room as fast as decently possible. She cared about Josephine very much, but sometimes she could be very creepy.

Dana went back down to the kitchen. Bringing up a tray of tea and biscuits a few hours later, she didn’t ask Josephine if she had finally opened the letter. It was still lying on the table, unopened.

Dana had a feeling that it might be important. She rang Michael, telling him everything she knew and, as she had expected, he was back home within the hour.

Chapter One Hundred and Eleven

Chapter One Hundred
and Eleven

‘I can’t fucking believe you sometimes, Josephine! Why haven’t you even opened the fucking thing?’ Michael snatched the letter off the table.

His annoyance bothered Josephine. He was looking at her as if she had done something wrong. Who the hell did he think he was?

He ripped open the envelope. It had one sheet of paper inside, folded up perfectly. He opened it up slowly, and Josephine realised that, just like her, he was frightened of what it might contain. She watched him as he read the contents.

‘Well? Come on then, what does it say, Michael?’

He bent down, until he was level with his wife’s face. ‘Not fucking too much, Josephine. It just has a number that we were supposed to ring at three thirty this afternoon. Bit late for that now, though, don’t you think? You silly bitch!’