When the pictures had stopped, Smith shuffled his way towards the mirror and lifted it, gently, into his arms.
Two weeks later, returning home from another day at the library, he stopped outside his door to listen. Sally and Tom were lost in another of their games. He heard them whooping in delight. He listened for long minutes, smiling at the doorknob, not wanting to break the spell.
Tom had coaxed her name from her a week ago and now Smith was spending his days tracking down who she was and what had happened afterwards. It had been slow-going. Details from the nineteenth century were patchy and he had to walk miles and miles to read parish records. But now, finally, he thought he had the full picture. He sighed as he unlocked his door and slipped inside.
The two ghosts were chasing ea
