Standing on top of the chest of drawers was a framed photograph. She knew it very well. She saw it every day. Her wedding photograph, she in her white silk Cinderella dress, Johnny in his dress uniform, standing in front of the church in Little Morpeth.
Try as she might, she could think of no scenario where she would take her wedding photograph with her for a day out, or to visit friends.
And there was something else really odd - the curtains. They were in unrelieved black. Who in the world would have black curtains? None of her friends, surely? And if she were in a guest house, would she choose one as shabby as this? Even in extremity? Was it even likely that anyone would attempt to rent a room as awful as this? And now she thought of it, there were other things that were out of kilte
