The strange old house was merely settling in its footings. Suddenly the telephone on a table adjacent to the armchair buzzed with activity and he almo...t panicked. Pale with shock and with guilt rippling in his belly, he moved over to pick up the handset. ‘H-hello. This is Mrs Boroclough’s house.’ ‘Poppy!’ Mrs Boroclough’s voice snapped into his ear from the other end of the line. ‘Yes, Mrs Boroclough.’ ‘Were you sleeping?’ ‘Um, no Mrs Boroclough. I – er – I was reading, Mrs Boroclough.’ ‘If. My college roommate, Sonia was trying to convince me to stay home and study instead of going out to dinner with Jesse, my new boyfriend. What can I say, Art History was a bore. I wasn’t failing, but well you know, I wasn’t working up to my potential. I had gone into Sonia’s room to ask her if I could borrow a belt that matched my dress. She was curled up on her bed in a long T-shirt, studying. (Sonia is smart, beautiful, and had begun to sound too much like my mother.) She challenged me to a. More

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