She’d just come in from shopping when the phone rang, was
struggling through the front door with three overloaded
bags and trying to fend off the tail wagging adulation of
Frankie as he greeted her at the door.
It had been raining and she was dripping wet.
Em dropped her bags and grabbed the phone.
“We’ve found your father,” Mac’s voice said.
The world slid sideways at that moment and Em just
managed to sit down on the bottom step before it swung a
complete three sixty degrees.
“You’ve what? Mac?”
“Look, Emily, I’m sorry to give you the news like this,
but I’ve been trying to reach you since first thing and
it’ll be on the evening news. I wanted to get to you
first; sorry it’s over the phone.”
The receiver fell from nerveless fingers and dropped onto
the tiled floor of her hall. She could hear his voice.
“Emily, are you there? Emily, are you ok?” She couldn’t
seem to respond.
Frankie yapped excitedly and then again, this time with
an edge of concern. He snuffled at the fallen receiver
and barked enquiringly. Em leaned forward, wrapping her
arms around her knees and crushing her breasts close
against her thighs. She began to cry, the sobs dragged
out reluctantly as though they’d been lodged in her
throat so long they were now reluctant to leave. Are you
sure? She wanted to ask him. How can you possibly be sure
but of course he must be sure, why else would he have
called. He…they…must be sure. They had found her dad,
after all this time. Not once did it occur to her that he
might not be dead
