Being Yours
'
'That you've been sent offensive materials through the post?
'An old conker,' Amy said in a flat, leaden voice. 'A stocking. A drawing of an eye.'
Silenced for a moment, Kate chewed her lip. Then she spoke in a new tone, purposeful yet undramatic. 'You're well rid of him, Amy.'
'I'm rid of him.'
'Come on, my dear. He vented his temper, that's all.'
'And if he has some more temper to vent?' Amy demanded. 'What if he s-s-s . . .' she stammered over the barely speakable word, 'what if he stalks me . . .'
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