Mrs Hart brushed Bertie’s fringe from his eyes. ‘It was such an abrupt and cruel separation. I have no idea what became of her. More than anything, I wish wherever she went, that her life was a happy one. She was the dearest friend I ever had.’ She pulled Bertie closer and kissed his hair. ‘It was Elizabeth who introduced me to the concept that a woman could be more than a daughter and then a wife and mother. That she could be someone and do something worthwhile with her life. Elizabeth was a passionate advocate for the rights of women. You would have liked her, I’m sure.’

‘I’m sorry you lost her.’

‘It was difficult to accept, at first. But the passing years have worn away the sharp edge I felt at Elizabeth’s departure. With the benefit of hindsight, I can now appreciate the time I had with her. She taught me so much and shaped so much of the person you see before you today. Although I’m sure some would say that’s not a good thing.’ Mrs Hart smiled, but it was hollow, with no real happiness. ‘Why is it that the people who mean most to us are taken too soon?’ As the words left her mouth, a look of horror crossed her face. ‘Oh, Louisa, I’m so sorry. Your mother –’

‘It’s all right, really.’

Bertie squirmed. He rubbed his eyes and blinked up at Mrs Hart. ‘Hello sleepyhead, you’ve been for a little adventure again.’ Mrs Hart clutched Bertie to her. ‘Go,’ she whispered to Lou. ‘Before he wakes and sees that you are here and wonders why. Remember, he mustn’t know that you are anything but a normal guest. I’ll see him home safely. And, Louisa, remember there is a reason that Hill House brought you here. Find out what it is.’

Lou wanted to hear more, to know more. At last, somebody knew her secret. Bertie squirmed again, and Mrs Hart gestured Lou away with her hand. Lou carefully backed out of the room

‘Good night, God bless, dear Louisa,’ Mrs Hart whispered. ‘Oh, and Louisa, remember that sometimes we must cross the path of another in an unexpected way in order to find our own path.’

Lou returned to her room and collapsed into bed, Mrs Hart’s cryptic explanations beating a path through her brain. There was nothing like finding out you were a pawn in some mystical game of chess to make you sober up quick smart. She crawled under the covers. So, Hill House had opened its doors to her, just like it had opened its doors to Mrs Hart’s friend and Edward’s maid. Was she really lying in this bed, accepting time travel in the same casual way she might accept hopping on a bus?

Her mind conjured up an image of a long queue of people at a bus stop, all waiting for their turn to board the Hill House charabanc. Amongst them was Mrs Hart’s friend, Elizabeth. With her luggage tag pinned to her coat, her little suitcase and sad eyes telling the story of the loss of her family in what sounded like an air raid, she looked for all the world like an evacuee from the Second World War. Edward’s maid was there too. Lou’s mind dressed her as an Edwardian maid with a black dress and auburn hair tucked beneath a white cap. There was no telling where she had really come from. The Georgian era? Tudor times? It could even be a future beyond Lou’s own. Every sane and rational thought told Lou these people couldn’t possibly slip through time. But what had Mrs Hart said? There was no logical explanation, only spiritual.