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or three times and decided that though it needed some refurbishment, it was exactly what they were looking for. They asked me if I'd like to go and see it with them, and one very hot Sunday afternoon in July, the three of us went to view the house together. We walked up the path to the front door, and strolled inside. Though warm, the inside of the house provided a pleasant relief from the searing sunshine outside. My dad showed me all of the rooms in the house while my stepmother went into the garden to speak to who, if they bought the house, would be their next-door neighbor.

At the top of the landing upstairs, was a large room which my dad and I entered. The air in the room, uniquely to the rest of the house, was freezing cold. That struck both of us as strange, bearing in mind how hot the weather was outside. We ignored it though and put it down to the fact that the day's sunshine hadn't yet penetrated the room, and that it would warm up later as the afternoon progressed. Although we were still feeling cold, my dad and I had a lot of fun in the room. There was still a little furniture in the room left by the previous occupant, and we had fun opening the drawers of a bureau and examining the contents. The drawers contained various items such as boxes of matches, odd pieces of cutlery, pieces of string and other meaningless trivia. My dad pushed his hand into the back of the drawer and pulled out a metal box. He opened the lid, and inside, there was a huge old-fashioned syringe and two vials of clear liquid.....the vials were labeled "insulin".....he closed the box and put it back in the drawer.

At that point, my stepmother called us from the garden, and we went downstairs to join her. The lady next door had been telling my stepmother about the previous occupant of the house, and stated that he was an old man living alone, who had died of complications arising from diabetes...that obviously explained what my dad and I had just a few minutes before, found in the metal box in the strange, cold room upstairs. Suddenly, whilst we were all talking over the garden fence, a small black dog hurtled from the would-be neighbor's kitchen, and dashed to the end of the garden. The dog stopped and turned towards the fence separating his garden from ours, and was barking ferociously. At first my dad, stepmother and myself thought he was barking at us, then my stepmother noticed he wasn't even looking at us but was barking and growling at a certain spot at the bottom of

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