CHAPTER THREEAn owl was hooting outside Sylvia’s window. Tooowhit tooowhoooo. The sound startled her awake in her armchair by the fire. As she straightened up, the book she had been reading slipped from her lap and fell heavily to the floor. She bent to retrieve it. What was the title? Oh yes…’The Folklore of Norfolk.’ She had barely read the preface before she had dozed off.
She wondered how long she had been asleep. She felt rather stiff. Cold too, despite the thick shawl over her nightdress. She glanced at the hearth and saw that the fire was out.
Toooowhit tooowhooo. One rarely heard owls in London and the sound delighted her. Then came another muffled sound, the old clock along the corridor striking the hour. She opened her bedroom door to hear more keenly. Ting ting ting ting – fou
