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uncomfortable, but then he didn't want to be
comfortable.
Kevin saw the depression in the floorboard near
the door. To see herself in the full-length mirror
whilst on the telephone, Sandra had stretched the
cord across the width of the flat door and the
phone crashed down. Since then something rattled
in the phone, but it worked perfectly.
He picked up the hand-piece and dialled the
number.
The last time he'd seen Sally was when she had
stayed with Sandra. He remembered the three of
them in his Triumph Spitfire. It was about eleven
at night. Sandra was beside him; Sally crammed in
the back. A car was tailing them through empty
suburbia. He'd speeded up, took extra turns and
he'd tapped the brake pedal. Still the car stuck to
him. His mind raced. Sally couldn't see out of the
oval back window. Only by chance on a turn was
the distance enough for him to see in his wing
mirror the coloured glass adorning the top of the
car. "Shit. It's the police," he said quietly and
pulled over.
The phone was picked up in the middle of the
second ring, almost as if the person had been
waiting for the call.
"Hallo?"
"Sally. It's Kevin."
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