“I’m sorry I told you that, Michelle. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. It’s no good. Spare me, and I'll be quiet—quiet —quiet!" "Mother!" said Jack, advancing towards her. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt.
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