THIRTY-NINE
I sank onto a stool by the phone and pulled out the phone book. I had a lot of cards to cancel and new ones to request. An hour later, sick of spelling out my name and telling everyone my birth date, I left the kitchen and headed for the pathetic collection of belongings I'd brought home with me from hospital.
I pulled the laptop bag onto my shoulder and carried it to my bedroom, looking for the camera on the hall sensor. Once I'd spotted it, I felt a little safer. At least someone was watching out for me, somewhere. I hoped they were close by – close enough to come if I needed them.
Unzipping the bag, I lifted the pink 'puter out and started to connect the power cables. I didn't flick the switch on the wifi modem. I didn't want to check my emails, f*******: and all the rest
