head was spinning. Who was this woman? Why was his mind playing such tricks? He was dreaming. It had to be a dream. He was tired and must have dozed off reading by the fire. None of this was real. It was not happening. He opened his eyes. The chair by the fire was empty. He breathed out again, relaxed.

"Darling, the teapot, where is it? I can't wait all afternoon and I do so much want to sit by the fire with you and hold your hand." The voice came from the kitchen. "And the kettle for the stove? Everything looks so different now."

No! He had to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. He started for the kitchen and then stopped. The picture was still on the floor, his own face smiling back at him, as if taunting him. He bent down, angry now, grabbed it and flung it into the fire. It caught light immediately, curling up as it burnt, a vivid blue flare against the orange and yellow flames. His own cheeks suddenly seemed to burn and his whole face tingled as if a hundred needles were pricking him. A cry went up from the kitchen, a long piercing wail full of deep loss and anguish. It became a scream that wrenched at your very being and made the soul shudder. Harry spun round and sensed a figure brush past and rush out of the door and into the night. A cold blast of air hit his hot cheeks and suddenly all was quiet again.

Harry slammed the door, locked it and walked over to the fireplace. He slumped wearily back into the armchair and heaved a sigh. Then he noticed the worn Gladstone bag.

.............................. ..........

Over the weeks that followed the memories of that autumnal afternoon and the strange lady in red boots slowly faded. Harry put it down to a mixture of dozing in front of a warm fire and his mind playing tricks. There were a few questions in Harry's mind that remained unanswered and locked away at the back of his mind. Well at least for now. True, there had been a couple of minor strange little incidents since, but he had merely dismissed them and put it down to 'forgetfulness'. And the Gladstone bag? Harry had thrown it back into the attic. Well, he must have got it down from there in the first place for a reason. The trouble was that reason escaped him for now. Now, if he had only taken the time to look inside.

The accident had been a serious one. Harry had spent several uncomfortable months in a hospital bed with the associated boredom and frustration that a slow recovery brings. Thankfully this was behind him

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