SUNDAY, AUGUST 18, 2013
EARLY MORNING
I hurl the phone over the fence, as far as I can; itlands somewhere on the edge of the scree at the topof the embankment. I think I can hear it rollingdown towards the track. I think I can still hear hervoice. Hi. It’s me. Leave a message. I think I mightbe hearing her voice for a long time to come.
He’s at the bottom of the stairs by the time I getback to the house. He’s watching me, blinking,bleary-eyed, struggling out of sleep.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say, but I can hear the tremor in myvoice.
“What were you doing outside?”
“I thought I heard someone,” I tell him. “Somethingwoke me. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“The phone rang,” he says, rubbing his eyes.
I clasp my hands together to stop them shaking.
“What? What phone?”
“The phone.” He’s looking at me as though I’minsane. “The............