THE MAN FROM LONDONThe rat-a-tat-tat on the door reverberated
through the house, startling Daisy. Usually, she
didn’t hear anyone. Upstairs in her
bedroom hidey-hole, music blaring, she
missed the noise her family made downstairs.
This knocking, though. It wasn’t a polite tap on
the wood, more a bang, booming three times through the door, along the hallway and up the stairs. Daisy
turned off her music. In the last few weeks, she’d tried to train herself out
of the instinctual reaction to anything unusual. Her treacherous heart disobeyed.
Maybe it’s Kippy! He’s changed his mind! He’s realised he loved me all along. Dod was just a…
Well, whatever.
…an
overreaction to a close friend’s death.
Anything
might trigger those instinctual thoughts—even though she’d made her
peace with
