I didn’t feel well at all. I made an empty promise to myself never to drink again, then put on some make-up. My eyes still looked tired. The recurring nightmare had become such a guaranteed part of my routine that I wasn’t even surprised when I’d woken up with a jolt, shaking and sweating. The nightmare was so strange. It was such a relief to wake up. I ate a bowl of cereal and put on the least creased outfit from my suitcase – a short vintage floral dress and blue cardigan. Every time I opened the suitcase I felt guilty. I knew Alf’s open letter was hidden in my shoebox. I tried not to feel too bad though. It wasn’t like it was important … I’m sure he could do without a creepy note telling him to keep his mouth shut. But then I remembered reading somewhere that it was an actual crime to open someone else’s post. And if Mum found out she’d freak; she was really particular about that sort of stuff. I rummaged beneath the clothes and took the letter out.
