The Lost Child. Ann Troup

that he would soon be introduced to the tiny teenaged nemesis, she opened her own door and once inside shut it gratefully on the strange and unpleasant evening.

      The draught from the closing of the door disturbed the plastic that enclosed Jean’s urn. It shifted and shed a little of the fine dust that still clung to its interior. An evening breeze picked up the specks and sent them whirling and reeling across the gardens and in through the open window of Miriam’s cottage. Alex had been laughing but was interrupted by an unanticipated sneeze, caused unbeknownst to him, by his sudden introduction to Jean.