“Hello Mrs Popborski, I don’t know if you remember me, but I think we need to talk.”
A small silence followed in which Richard Davenport could almost believe he saw her standing with the phone against her cheek, her long fingers trembling and the hint of a smile crawling across the slender face he had, for the smallest of moments, been afraid of.
“Bring her to me.”
“Yes, yes of course. I’ll bring her in the morning.”
“No Mr Davenport, bring her now.”
“Yes, yes of course.”
Rebecca
