SecureYou called but she wasn’t there. Alice made sure of that. She’d heard whispers that if they had your telephone number, your landline, you moved. Before they called in person.
Alice had listened to the voicemail message that afternoon. A deep voice, smooth, politely saying the caller was from a doubtless fictional charity and they had a parcel of clothing and toys for the children and wished to make arrangements to deliver it.
Alice’s blood ran cold. She’d heard of this approach from others in her loose, supportive network. It was how they confirmed you’d be at home when they arrived, and, a sideline in cruelty, to raise spirits which would later be violently dashed.
She packed the barest necessities into the battered Fiesta – clothes, a favourite toy each, a couple of books and a bag of non-perishable food – and collected the kids from school.
‘Again, Mum?’ the oldest complained on seeing the luggage-laden vehicle.
‘Yes, again. Get in and hurry up.’
Alice made sure their seatbelts were fastened, returned to the driver’s seat and pulled into the traffic. Tonight they’d sleep at a motel and tomorrow – well, she’d think about that when they got to the motel.
‘I’m really sick of this, Mum,’ the second one moaned. ‘Just when I’d made friends here.’
‘How many more times?’ the oldest asked with a world weary sigh.
‘No idea, love.’ She threw him a worried sidelong glance. ‘For as long as it takes your useless father to pay off his debts to those ruthless thieves.’
When the charity called, Alice wasn’t there. They left the parcel of clothes, toys and books on the porch and posted a note through the letter box with a cheque to be spent on groceries.
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Poor Alice. Paranoia can be a terrible thing.