Christine almost snapped the key in the door, her white knuckles clasped tightly round the keyring.
“Vengeance is mine,” she whispered to the empty hall. “Saith me.”
She picked up the two carrier bags and kicked the front door closed behind her.
She went to the kitchen and picked up the wine glass she had used before she went out. She reached into the fridge, poured another glass of white wine, and drank it straight down. She refilled the glass before putting the bottle back in door.
“Vengeance,” she muttered. “Vengeance.”
She opened the back door and went out to the shed. She opened the door and took out a step ladder. Smiling, she returned to the house and set the step stool down by the front curtains. Climbing up, she reached for the heavy curtain rail above the front room curtains. She grasped the ferrule with one hand and pulled, hard. Christine grunted, trying again. The ferrule moved, a little. She grinned, and pulled again. It pulled off in her hand, and she almost overbalanced.
“Jennifer Edwards,” she said. “This is for you.”
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