The handwriting is scrawled and over large. “Minnerva’s Private Thoughts — No Trespassers. That Includes You, Uninvited Reader. Beware of Dogs.” The next page is stuck to the first with something that leaves your fingers sticky. The corner is stubborn and rips. A photo of your house but many years ago. A woman sits in a chair on the lawn, looking away from the camera. You realise her chair is actually an ornate wheelchair. A neat cursive at the bottom reads: Minnerva and Mother, 1927. You look back again and that’s when you see her: a girl standing on the porch, in the shadows. Her dress is blurred because of her distance, her features are hard to make out. But her eyes look right at the camera.

TBC…