Frank had sounded alarmed. ‘Are you all right, Mrs Sandilands?’
She recalled how tinny Frank’s voice had sounded, how panicky, disembodied, or that might have been her.
‘Are you sure I can’t ring someone?’ he’d begged.
‘What?’ she’d croaked, when he didn’t go on. ‘What did he say?’
Her voice had trembled with emotion, emotion that had hit her already fragmented head with another blow, but she'd felt the first glimmer of hope.