‘Hello, Dennis Jowett.’ he answered when the phone rang. ‘Hello? Hello?’ but there was no response. Then a sudden premonition swept over him, a thin chill slid down his back like an icy snake, ‘’Josie?’ he said, his heart pounding, ‘Josie, is that you?’
‘’Yes, Daddy’ and the phone went dead.
‘Who was it?’ Joyce called.
‘Josie, it was our Josie’, Dennis shouted exultantly, for more than 17 months they had had no news, no contact, no idea where she was, unsure whether she was alive or dead. And then out of the blue, this contact. He wanted to do cartwheels, dance around in the rain, run down the street shouting ‘She’s alive, Josie’s alive, Josie’s alive! Alive!’
‘Let me speak to her,’ Joyce said, running over to take the phone.
‘She, she rang off.’
‘So, where is she?’
‘I don’t know, I
