MRS WIBBSEY'S FESTIVE DIARY
There was a thump at the door very early on. I was up and mopping the floors. I heard the letterbox rattle and thought: that’s curiously early. I never went running. Let them wait.
I forgot about it and later, passing through the hallway I saw there was a little card shoved under the door. Another takeaway opened up, I thought. Or hate mail.
But it wasn’t. It was like computer print-out lettering. It read:
‘Mistress. I knocked but you were out. This unit will call again.’
This unit, I thought? What the devil’s that about? And why are they calling me mistress?
I felt a bit cross and – I must say – rather nervous. I’ve reached a point in life where I don’t want or like new and unexpected things.