Nora Brady put down her newspaper in shock. It had happened again, just down the road, another robbery. She'd lost count how many lately. And this one... an artifice burglary, they'd called it in the newspapers. Conning poor, befuddled old ladies on door steps is what that meant.

This kind of news always frightened Nora now that she was a widow, all on her own since Jim died with his boots on while down the road, standing at a counter. Of all places, he'd chosen to leave this life while in the pub, which was the only place he'd ever taken his boots to for the last fifty years or more.

A useless drunken wretch, he may have been, but at least he was something to cuddle up to when there were noises in the night. He was someone to open the front door to strangers. Someone to deal with all the world out there, which was nasty and hurtful and dangerous. On her own, she was scared everyday. Dreadfully so.

The boys who ran around in the street outside till all hours kept her awake, trembling in her bed, afraid they would smash her windows and come in. Men knocked at her door near every day: selling, delivering, inspecting. Who knew who they were? What they were?

Her Paul had been straight round and fitted a good hard chain on the door when she had finally confided her fears in his lovely wife, Sue. Regular church goers, they were. Something unusual in this day and age. What a shame they lived so far away.

Paul had telephoned all the proper people that came visiting: the Gas Board, the Electricity people, and the like. A special system for old folk, they have, Paul had told her. When they want to come round, they telephone you first to let you know and to make an appointment. Then when the man arrives he shows you his identification card before you ever undo the chain on the door. Then comes the clever part, you ask him what the password is. The password is one you give to the company yourself, so only you and they know it. Without that password, you don’t let them in and, instead, you phone the Police straight away while they're still standing there, all unsuspecting.

Nora made herself a cup of tea and wondered why these silly old people who were robbed by these artifice burglars ever let them inside in the first place. They should wise up and use the password scheme, and let any other stranger who knocked at the door go hang. At best, they would be salesmen trying to sell something and at worst... well... rapists, robbers, and who knew what else.

No, a good stout front door and a password system was the way to go. Only someone using the system would ever get inside <i>her</i> house.

Oh, they still knocked of course, but Nora always had her curtain drawn just so. She could peek through between the panels and see them, but they couldn’t see her. She never answered the door, but would always turn the television up so it was clear someone was inside.

That way, Paul had told her, if they were ordinary burglars checking to see if someone was home, then they'd hear the telly being turned up and they'd scurry away. He was a clever boy, her Paul. If she didn’t know better, she would never have believed Jim was his father.

Nora pottered away all day, cleaning her already spic and span house and watching some of those outrageous American daytime TV programs. She shook her head. The lives some of those people led. She didn’t understand the half of it, which was probably just as well, she thought, but it was funny sometimes. The way some of those women behaved, well!

At a quarter past three, there came a knock on the front door. Nora froze and then inched forward on the sofa to look through her curtains. She saw a scruffy looking man wearing a tracksuit. He stood turned away from Nora, looking away down the street. She leaned over and pushed the volume control on the TV remote on the coffee table in front of her. At the increase in volume, the man jerked his head around and knocked again.

Nora didn’t move. After thirty seconds or so, he shook his head and walked away down her garden path. Nora sat back, trembling but grimly satisfied. <i>You are not fooling this old lady today, chum,</i> she thought. Turning the volume back down to normal, she got up to make another cup of tea.

As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, another knock sounded on the door.

Nora nearly dropped the cup in her hand. She stood frozen in the kitchen, afraid to breathe. She couldn’t move to the TV remote from where she was, as he would then see her through the curtains. No, she'd have stay where she was, otherwise he'd know she was just an old lady and by herself. She peered around the kitchen door and saw a head behind the frosted glass at the top of her front door. She was getting quite overly frightened now.

"Go away, go away," she whispered.

The letter box flap lifted up, startling her so badly she near dropped her cup again.

"What's he doing?" Nora gripped the worktop behind her, utterly terrified.

She heard, "Mum, it’s me. Paul. Come on, don’t be silly. I know you’re in there."

She felt a ridiculous grin spread across her face. Her son Paul’s voice was the greatest thing she could have heard at that point. She unlocked her knees and ran to the front door. She undid the chain and flung the door open. In front of her stood her darling son and his wife, holding the baby wrapped in a blanket.

"Oh, Paul, Sue, what a lovely surprise. Come in, come in. Why didn’t you phone?"

"Just one of those things, mum, we have some great news and just wanted to come and tell you straight away," said Paul as they walked into the living room.

"I’ll just put baby Josie down here, Nora" said Sue. "She’s sleeping."

Nora smiled. "Yes, yes. Right there is good. Bolster her with a pillow so she doesn't roll off. I'm putting more tea on. Join me in the kitchen, and I'll make enough for all." Nora turned, humming, and went to the kitchen.

She called over her shoulder, "Now what’s the great news then?" Nora crossed her fingers, hoping it was going to be news of another grandchild. She fussed around putting the kettle on.

"Well mum," said Paul, coming in behind her. "It’s to do with the church. We had some amazing news today."

"Oh, what’s that dear?" Nora picked up the water filled teapot and set it on a burner.

"Well," said Sue as she walked into the kitchen behind Nora, "it’s probably easier to show you."

Nora felt a sudden excruciating pain in her scalp as her hair was pulled from behind savagely. She fell backward, her lower spine hitting and resting on something, Sue’s bent leg she dimly realized. She looked up into Sue's face.

Sue, holding Nora's hair in her clutching hand, looked down at her. She said clearly and lovingly, "Jesus wants us, Nora, all of us, and he wants us now."

Sue tilted Nora’s head further back, exposing her neck to the ceiling. A large, shiny carving knife passed before Nora eyes. As it was pulled across her upturned, milky, wattled throat, thick purple blood gouted from it, spraying the ceiling and wall.

Nora heard her dear Paul's voice one last time, soft and fading away. "It’s okay, mum. We’ll be there soon and Josie’s already there waiting for her Nana."