“Do you know why the place next door is empty?”

“The previous tenants only stayed a few weeks and left because of strange noises in the night and none of the locals will touch it with a barge pole, they think it’s haunted.”

William thanked her profusely and took his leave.

The estate agent was extremely obliging. Privately, the house had been on his books for nearly two years, it was damp and needed redecorating throughout and he was prepared to almost give it away on a long lease. So when the young fellow spun him a tale about wanting the keys to show his wife around that afternoon, when she’d finished shopping, he was only too keen. He took down all William Appleby’s personal details, current address and place of employment, and handed him the keys for the rest of the day, after insisting he had to make a quick decision as there were already four couples desperately keen to have such a desirable address.

The musty smell assaulted his nostrils as soon as he opened the door of elevenA. The house was classed as a fully furnished residence, according to the typed blurb on the headed notepaper he had been presented with. Worn out lino in each room and a tired old three-piece suite with sunken seats, spoke of neglect.

The kitchen was filthy, there was nothing for him here, and he was getting desperate to leave. It was as he retraced his steps back towards the front door that he glanced in the cracked mirror over the fireplace and saw it. The hairs came up on the back of his neck and he shivered involuntarily. Reflected in the glass was a large framed portrait that he recognised. It was a blown up photo of his Aunt Lilly.

But this couldn’t be. Her house had been almost gutted and rebuilt on the site. He rushed through every room but there was nothing else to see. He scanned the house agent’s details again, but he’d seen all the rooms.

He wondered if there was a cellar or basement of any sort. No, he couldn’t see anything mentioned. So he went outside and found himself in a small overgrown yard. Just to one side of the back door, and hinged to the house wall was a wooden flap, virtually invisible and covered by rubbish, it was the kind of flap that would once have been an access for coal deliveries.

Gripped with excitement, he frenziedly kicked away the weeds that anchored it down and pulled it open. The stench was unbearable and as his eyes got accustomed to the dark interior he saw the cluster of human bones and knew he had found the last remains of Aunt Lilly.

Going back inside he took a last look at the photo on the wall. The wall was blank! The photo had gone. End.