The week flew by and by the end of it, Sam was exhausted. Anyone she came across at the shelter was subject to a barrage of questions about Joyce. Yet still, she had no answers. No one knew her or had even heard of her.
Maybe she wasn’t real. But she still had the business card in her pocket, so she quickly dismissed that notion.
Sunday night arrived, and as she prepared her clothes to wear to her first day of work, a peace settled over her when she realised she could ask Mr Harman about Joyce.
Sam got up extra early, put on an old dress and covered her hair with a blue and yellow scarf, then took off to help with breakfast at the refuge. It was more crowded than usual so preparing and serving the food was hard work. But it helped to settle her nerves.
At seven-fifteen, a few sisters g
