“Close the door…” Irma hastily whispered to her son, Malcolm.
He obeyed her without pause, jumping out of his chair, and firmly closing the back door.
He turned to his mother when he’d done, who stage whispered; “I don’t want to see Pamela.”
When they first came to the building where Irma Hastings took up the post as manager, Pamela had been their most frequent guest.
She lived down the hall.
She was intelligent, positive, Malcolm found her pleasant. When she had stopped in it was comfortable, a real visit.
Then something happened.