It was around 2pm in London.
I was at a friend's house in the west of the city. We had just finished lunch when my phone began to ring relentlessly with a Maltese number that I did not recognise. The caller was so insistent that it disturbed me. If there was an emergency in Malta, where the rest of my family still lived, I would have been called from a number I recognised.
Icopied the number and sent it to my mother on WhatsApp, asking whether she knew it. I noticed that the message I sent received one grey tick, meaning it hadn't been delivered. A message from a friend in Malta, an emergency doctor, came in: "Everything OK?"
"Hurricane Ophelia?" I replied, referring to the storm that had started in the Azores and was now threatening London. "Yes, fine."
As I sat down with my coffee, my girlfriend Jessica rang. "Paul, Cora just called me," she said, referring to my aunt. "She said that Matthew's been trying to get through to you."
I hung up and the Maltese number called again. I walked into another room, sat down on a sofa and answered. It was Matthew.
"Paul," he said, "there was a bomb in her car."
And then, with each word separated by what felt like an eternity, he added, "I don't think she made it."
I felt my mind lift to the room's ceiling, so that I was looking back at myself, sitting on a sofa at a friend's house, listening to my brother tell me that our mother had just been assassinated.
"Paul?" he said.
"What do I do, Matt? What do I do?"
"Come home. Now," he said. "Get on the next flight to Malta."
Outside, the sun was the colour of blood and the sky purple.
Hurricane Ophelia was blowing Saharan dust into the city, scattering the sunlight differently. Purple was my mother's favourite colour. Ophelia, who in Hamlet didn't realise the danger she was in until her "muddy death", brought it to me.
Denne historien er fra October 20, 2023-utgaven av The Guardian Weekly.
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Denne historien er fra October 20, 2023-utgaven av The Guardian Weekly.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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Finn family murals
The optimism that runs through Finnish artist Tove Jansson's Moomin stories also appears in her public works, now on show in a Helsinki exhibition
I hoped Finland would be a progressive dream.I've had to think again Mike Watson
Oulu is five hours north from Helsinki by train and a good deal colder and darker each winter than the Finnish capital. From November to March its 220,000 residents are lucky to see daylight for a couple of hours a day and temperatures can reach the minus 30s. However, this is not the reason I sense a darkening of the Finnish dream that brought me here six years ago.
A surplus of billionaires is destabilising our democracies Zoe Williams
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'What will people think? I don't care any more'
At 90, Alan Bennett has written a sex-fuelled novella set in a home for the elderly. He talks about mourning Maggie Smith, turning down a knighthood and what he makes of the new UK prime minister
I see you
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Rumbled How Ali ran rings around apartheid, 50 years ago
Fifty years ago, in a corner of white South Africa, Muhammad Ali already seemed a miracle-maker.
Trudeau faces 'iceberg revolt'as calls grow for PM to quit
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Lost Maya city revealed through laser mapping
After swapping machetes and binoculars for computer screens and laser mapping, a team of researchers have discovered a lost Maya city containing temple pyramids, enclosed plazas and a reservoir which had been hidden for centuries by the Mexican jungle.
'A civil war' Gangs step up assault on capital
Armed fighters advance into neighbourhoods at the heart of Port-au-Prince as authorities try to restore order
Reality bites in the Himalayan 'kingdom of happiness'
High emigration and youth unemployment levels belie the mountain nation's global reputation for cheeriness