The element of surprise might work on Mrs Scary. Then again, she might take after me with her hissing black cat and broom.

It was funny how things could turn around. One minute, you’re bobbing along with your life and the next you’re staring unemployment in the face and creeping through woodland.

I trampled on, my walking boots squashing the grass and reeds flat before they bounced back up again. If my recollections were correct, Merry Wood was up ahead, past those hillsides with the purple heather.

I propelled myself on until I came face to face with a thicker set of trees. I pushed on through, finding myself staring at Merry Wood again, as it rose up into the pastel sky.

The evening light sifted through the front garden, casting a soupy glow down on the hot-pink and violet clumps of heather growing there. The back garden gave only a tantalising glimpse of fading scarlet leaves over the top of the towering, wooden fence.

I took another look through the windows. Everything was as I remembered it; still, dusty and empty.

I then turned and looked down through the woodland to where I suspected the scary lady lived. It must be down there. I recalled puffs of chimney smoke. There were no other houses around here for miles.

I moved off and away from Merry Wood and it took only a couple of minutes of traipsing through the rustling undergrowth until I was confronted by a small immaculate farmhouse.

It was all pitched roof and stone built, with a rugged façade of sash windows. There was a deep-grey painted front door and assorted potted plants. A white garden bench sat near the entrance.

I made my way up the flagged stone steps and turned around to look over my shoulder. The view from here was straight through the trees and across to Merry Wood. It was just a stone’s throw away.

I lifted my hand and although guessing I wouldn’t receive a warm welcome, knocked on the door anyway.

I almost fell backwards when a cross face shot up at the nearest window pane. “Who is it? What do you want?”

When she saw me standing there, sporting a hopeful smile, she vanished from the window and yanked open her front door. “Oh. It’s you.”

I had received more enthusiastic welcomes in my time, it had to be said.

“I’m sorry to trouble you…”

She folded her thin, pale arms across her apron. “Not lost that dog of yours again, have you? You know, you ought to keep her on a lead. She could end up down a fox hole.”