She hugged the shoebox to her chest to free a hand for opening the door. She wasn’t looking forward to a long wait alone inside the phone box, as minutes that seemed like hours crept by; she was scared that someone would come along and insist on making a call; she was worried that she’d snap mentally, like someone trapped for years on a desert island, and the phone box would become her coffin.

But the phone rang even as the door was swinging shut behind her.

The moment she picked up the receiver in her left hand, something seemed to click in her mind. She remembered the order to answer immediately. She had already told herself they were just words, and they would help get Josie back. So there was no shame when she said:

‘Hello, my master. I am so scared.’

She put her other hand on the receiver, as ordered. There was a pause. The fingers of her right hand traced along the inside of the receiver handle as the wait jangled her nerves.

‘Pay careful attention to what you feel. It will help you do the right thing. Remember: any trickery and your kid doesn’t see old age.’

Growing shock made her unable to speak. The same disguise to the voice. It was hard to picture a woman at the other end.

‘So you understand the message I’m giving you. Good.’

She got her mind back on track and remembered the rest of her instructions: ‘I will do whatever you want.’

‘We don’t want you to do this. We want your husband to bring the money. Go home and we’ll call again.’

Click.

Anna dropped the receiver. It yanked against the end of the cable and cracked into her knee, but she barely felt it. She leaned on the phone book shelf, gripping it tightly with both hands, and laid her head against the wall. For a few seconds, she just stayed like that. Then she stood, removed one hand from the shelf and grabbed the swinging receiver again.

‘Hello?’ she cried into it. But of course, there was no answer. The faceless voice had gone.

She put the receiver back in its cradle, slowly and carefully, and rubbed her hands together. ‘You’ll be okay, Anna,’ she said aloud. It was a careful sentence, designed to ease Nick’s pain and not arouse suspicion if the Ogres were listening. God knows what Nick was going through. And Jane and Father. She picked up the shoebox and rushed from the phone box, eager to get back to her husband, because he would need comfort after her failure to get Josie back. The moment she flopped into the driver’s seat, Nick was right there.

‘It’s okay, Anna, it’s okay, they probably want me to do some running around, so there’s no police surveillance, that’s all. Please, don’t be worried. Are you okay?’