Wilma picks up the phone.
"The Watchtower home, good evening."
The voice on the other end is small, quite vulnerable.
"Sister Watchtower? This is Janet speaking. Janet from yesterday."
Wilma feels instantly cold, and draws her dressing gown more tightly around herself.
"Yes Janet, how can I help you?"
"Sister Wilma, please may I speak to Brother Watchtower?"