It came on a Friday afternoon.
I was in the library editing a manuscript for a client, the ordinary focused work of someone who had rebuilt a professional routine around honest living, when my phone rang with a number I did not recognise.
I almost did not answer.
Something made me pick up.
A woman's voice. Young. Careful in the way of someone who has rehearsed what they are about to say and is trying to deliver it exactly as rehearsed.
She said: is this Lena Hartley Cole.
I said: it is.
She said: my name is Iris. I am calling because I read your statement. The one you published several weeks ago. I have been trying to decide whether to call since the day it went up.
I set down my pen.
I said: what made you decide today.
She said: I ran out of reasons not to.
I said: alright Iris
