Beryl was awakened by the telephone ringing in the hallway. She turned to the clock: 3.18am.
Who could be calling at such an hour? And why? Wild imaginings and a rising sense of dread assailed her.
The phone rang on, its cry amplified by the hallway’s polished boards.
Beryl stayed in bed. I can’t take any more bad news, she thought.
When the ringing stopped, she savoured the blessed silence and told herself it was a wrong number.
Moments later, her mobile lit up and began buzzing on her bedside table. Nauseated, she reached over and turned it off.
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