I made myself a cup of tea when we got home and, while Harley snoozed in her basket in the kitchen, I set up my laptop on the kitchen table and prepared to google the name of the mysterious house – Merry Wood.

Her insistence that there was “no story here” invariably meant that there was, going by previous experience. That fanned my curiosity even more.

But any budding hope of finding out some information about the mysterious house soon withered. There was nothing – not even a photograph of the house came up. I entered in various combinations of the name – MerryWood; Merry Wood; Merry Wood House – but nothing appeared. It was so strange.

My optimism vanished.

My mind returned to the dusty stillness in those rooms as I looked through the windows and the expectant weary furniture in situ. Then there was that untamed gorgeous front garden. If the rear garden was anything like that, it must have looked spectacular in its heyday.

Where were the occupants? Why on earth would a house be abandoned like that, if the owner had decided to move away? And why was that strange woman so defensive? It didn’t seem like she lived in the house.

She must live not far from Merry Wood though, going by the way she materialised out of nowhere, and that chimney she was headed back to was very close by. She must stay there.

I reached for my notepad and pen and jotted down a plan of action. I would speak to my couple of contacts at the council and ask them if they had any information on Merry Wood. Maybe the Registration Office would have some details on who resided there or had lived there in the past. Perhaps a sift through the births, deaths, and marriages register might throw up something interesting? Might it be worth speaking to my contact at the local police station too?

The anticipation of having stumbled over an intriguing story was diluted by the sobering reminder that in a matter of weeks The Silver Ness News would be no more – at least as it is now.

The initial thrill of discovering a possible human-interest story had managed to take my mind off my so far fruitless search for other employment.

I took a mouthful of tea and decided I should have another look at media job vacancies. There would be plenty of time at work tomorrow to check out Merry Wood.

My eyes zipped over a couple of sites to which I had started subscribing. There were a couple of adverts for PR and marketing executives, but nothing in journalism. My chest deflated like a pricked balloon. This was useless.

I was just about to click off the second site, after again reading a series of appeals for advertising representatives, when a striking pink and white advert shimmered up on screen. I didn’t remember that being there the other day when I checked.