She felt safe. Safe from whoever had sent that dreadful Christmas card. Could it have been Tony? Part of her wanted to believe it. But the chicken in the fridge – why would he pull a sick stunt like that? Did he really think he could scare her into having him back? Deep down she knew she was clutching at straws. Tony might be a coward but he wasn’t spiteful. This was the work of someone nasty. Can’t wait to give you your real present. What the hell had he meant by that? She thought for a moment. What if it wasn’t a he? What if it was Clare? What if she knew about Tony’s change of heart and was out for revenge? Easy enough for her to take his key. Megan frowned. In a way, she hoped it was Clare. The idea of Tony’s girlfriend prowling around the flat was far less terrifying than the other possibility. The one she was trying not to think about. She gazed at her nephew, who was sleeping peacefully in his cot. Whatever the sender of that card had in mind, they were in for a disappointment.
