She hadn’t noticed when she’d pulled it from the door earlier, or maybe it hadn’t happened until it had hit the floor and broken whatever was inside. Something that stained the corner of the wrapping paper. Jodie bent down and sniffed, straightening quickly. It was a stench she recognised from wounds that were deteriorating… putrid and nasty.

Later, she thought she should have rung the police and left them to deal with whatever it was. But that was when the shock had worn off. Now, with her eyes wide, she bent and picked the package up by one of its ribbons and carried it to the draining board in the kitchen. She took scissors from the drawer and cut the paper, then the tape that held the box shut. It looked the same inside as the last two: the same blue tissue paper.

It had rained earlier, maybe the package had simply got caught in rainwater dropping from the gutters overhead. And the smell was… no, she couldn’t think of any reason for the stink that emanated from the open box. Using the points of the scissor blades she parted the tissue paper gently.

The scissors went flying across the room as she leapt away with a horrified yelp and stood trembling, her eyes never leaving the box. ‘Fuck!’ She held a hand to her mouth, feeling weak, stunned.

It was seconds before she could move, before she could stagger into the hallway, sit on the stairs and fumble inside her bag for her mobile. Then she pressed nine, three times.

‘Police,’ she said when asked what service she required. In a voice almost devoid of intonation, she told the police operator her story, answered the questions she was asked and slumped on the stairs when she was told an officer would be around within the hour.

Jodie didn’t move while she waited. A wave of self-pity rolled over her, and she gulped, pressing her lips together to prevent a howl of anguish. She picked up her phone and sent Rivka a text.

If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, could you come around. I need to talk to you.

Her friend had Fridays off; she hoped she’d not made other plans.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Sure, eleven okay?

Perfect, See you then.

Relieved, Jodie put the phone down.

When the doorbell rang, slightly less than an hour since her emergency call, she stood shakily and went to let them in. She had her hand on the doorknob, then stopped and pressed closer to the door to listen for voices. It was quiet. ‘Hello?’

‘Ms Armstrong, it’s the police.’

Of course it was. Shaking her head, she twisted the handle and pulled open the door. Two uniformed officers stood outside, their car parked across the road. ‘Sorry,’ Jodie said, ‘I seem to be getting a little paranoid.’