I frowned.
“Are you sure? I was given this number about a week ago.”
“Quite sure. I’ve had this telephone number for years.”
“Do you happen to know where she moved?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
I thanked him and ended the call.
Then I stared at my phone.
Why had Mom given me an outdated number?
Had she genuinely forgotten?
Or had she wanted to prevent me from contacting Margaret?
I called her cell phone.
From upstairs, I heard it ringing.
She didn’t answer.
I considered knocking on her bedroom door, but I knew she was exhausted.
So
I decided to wait until morning.
The next day, I found Mom asleep in her armchair.
She was still wearing the cardigan she’d worn on the train.
On the small table beside her sat a train ticket.
I picked it up.
The date caught my attention immediately.
It was from three days before I’d collected her at the station.
