Eve Monk would never forget where she was and what she was doing the day she got the call to say her husband had been killed. She’d been packing the car, the bright orange Torana she and Rex had bought just after they were married. It was sixteen years old and Rex had bought several cars since but she loved the Torana. All that morning she’d been loading it with as many of the boys’ things as she could fit, along with a few items of her own. She’d gone back inside to get the washing basket from the laundry. It was full of dirty clothes but they were mostly school uniforms and the boys would need them.
The phone was ringing at the other end of the house. She hesitated, not wanting to answer, but she always worried it would be the school. There’d been plenty of calls from both her sons’ teachers over the last two years. No doubt after today they’d pick up in frequency again but it couldn’t be helped.
“Eve!” A voice bellowed at her down the line.
“Spiro?” Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of her friend and business partner’s voice. The trawlers had only gone out the previous night for the first fish of the season. She wasn’t expecting them back for a few days. She glanced at the sky through the big kitchen window. There was no sign of bad weather…