From inside the Hall, a woman finally speaks in harsh tones, thick with the local Sussex accent and muffled by the thick wooden door, and tells him to...“Bugger off, there be no one enterin’ this house at dead o’ night, no matter who ‘ee says ‘ee be!”The girl’s voice, the same young woman he heard inside his head at the white cottage, says to him, ‘come back to the cottage, all will be well, trust in me, Nando, trust in me.’No one had called him Nando for more than fifty years, it took his mind. I set to work lighting the BBQ whilst Becky prepped some steaks and veggies for the grill; she had even bought a blueberry pie with her. The sky was darkening a lot more quickly than normal and the wind was picking up. Becky let me cook while she tidied up around the porch, making sure nothing was laying around loose, she also clipped the shutters into place over the windows. “Something you want to tell me,” I asked nodding at her handiwork “I’ve lived here all my life and there’s a storm. More

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