Jackson found the start of Chapter 12 and started reading.

  Henry and Eleanor Thorne lived at Oakhaven from 1922 to 1939. They had three children, Robert, Isabella and Katherine.

  The children grew up at Oakhaven. One day in the summer of 1936 Katherine and Isabella, who were both in their twenties, walked across the field to the south of the house and climbed to the top of the low hill named McPherson’s Hill after an early settler. While they were on the hill a storm with lightning and thunder swept across the field. Katherine told her distraught parents afterwards that Isabella lagged behind her as they tried to run down the hill. She said there was a bright flash and a loud bang. She went back to look for her sister but could not find her.

  Her parents, assisted by neighbours and the local constable, searched the area for hours but the girl was nowhere to be found. It was thought if she had been struck by a lightning bolt and survived she may have wandered off in a daze. Weeks passed with the search widening to cover a larger area, but she was never found. No body was ever found and no one living in the area saw her after the day of the storm on the hill.

  So the mystery of her disappearance remains to this day, fifteen years later. What happened to Isabella Thorne? See her photograph on the next page.

  With trembling fingers Jackson turned the page.

  The black and white photo of the girl smiling into the camera was very clear, it must have been a studio portrait. It was Isabella, his Isabella. It had to be because it looked exactly like her and she was wearing a heart shaped pendant around her neck.

  Jackson sat back on the couch with a million thoughts whirling around in his brain. She disappeared eighty nine years ago without a trace until a few weeks ago when she appeared at his gate not looking a day older than in this photograph. It was impossible unless she was a time traveller. Could she be a descendant of the Isabella from 1936 who bore an exact resemblance? But if that was the case wouldn’t his Isabella have a different surname? Back in those days when women married they always took on their husband’s surname. It was all so confusing.

  He took another large sip of wine as his phone chimed.

  “Hello Mr Turner, it’s Don Robinson here. I arrived home a day earlier than expected. I was wondering if we could make the meeting tomorrow at ten? And could we make it at Oakhaven? I would love to see the old house.”

  Jackson spent the next couple of hours looking through the book. It was full of dates and names, and several early photographs of the house. Finally Jackson decided he better go back to his computer and do some work for his employer. He had been so distracted the last few days that he had put in very little time for his bosses in London.

  The next morning promptly at ten o’clock the historian arrived at the front door.

  “Don Robinson,” the man said as he shook Jackson’s hand.

  After a tour of the house they sat down for coffee at the dining table.

  “Well Mr Turner, you said on the phone you wanted information on Oakhaven, but I see you have a copy of my father’s book which should give you just about everything you need.” He pointed to the book Jackson had left on the table.

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  “I am very intrigued about the chapter on the disappearance of Isabella Thorne in 1936,” Jackson explained, “I was hoping you might be able to tell me more about it. I was wondering if Ms Thorne was ever found.”

  “Unfortunately no, so the mystery remains. Have you seen her yourself?”

  The question caught Jackson by surprise, “Well no of course not. If she was still alive today she would be over a hundred years old.

  Robinson chuckled, “My father didn’t mention it in his book but the next family who moved into the house after the Thornes left thought they saw Isabella in the house and in the garden on several occasions. So then rumours started going around that she had died by the blast of the lightning bolt, and her restless spirit remained in the house. There were even a few stories in later years that she had been seen walking around the town, always in the same white dress she was wearing of the day of her disappearance.”

  Jackson sat back and thought about this. He suddenly realised that over the two short weeks he had been with Isabella she had always worn the same white dress. He had been so infatuated with her that he had never really noticed.

  “So Mr Robinson, what do you think really happened to Isabella Thorne?” Jackson asked his guest.

  “Well I don’t think her restless spirit is wandering around the house or the town,” Robinson replied looking thoughtful, “And if she had been killed by the lightning why was no body found? People don’t just disintegrate when hit by lightning. No, I believe she was stunned by the lightning and wandered off somewhere. Maybe someone picked her up on a nearby road and took her away somewhere. But the thing that interests me is this.”

  He picked up the book and opened it to the page with the photograph of Isabella. He pointed to the pendant. “I believe this heart shaped crystal to be very old, created in the hills of India or Tibet. It’s reputed to have some kind of spiritual or mystical powers for the wearer. I think it would be worth a lot of money. Isabella was probably wearing it on the day of the storm so it went with her wherever she ended up. I don’t suppose you’ve come across it here in the house?”

  Jackson shook his head. He couldn’t very well come right out and tell Don Robinson that he had spent the last week searching for it at the request of Isabella herself.

  Ten minutes later Robinson said goodbye and drove off down the driveway.

  Jackson stood at the front door watching him go. As he turned to go back inside he glanced over at the hill, McPhersons Hill, the hill where Isabella Thorne had disappeared eighty nine years ago. Could any of this be real? Could his Isabella somehow be the Isabella from 1936 who vanished in a lightning storm? Had he met her ghost, a flesh and blood ghost?

  As he looked at the hill he noticed that although there were dozens of sheep grazing in the pasture surrounding it, there were none on the hill itself, just like Isabella had pointed out to him a week earlier. Although the sky was mostly clear a cloud drifted across the sun with the shadow settling on the hill giving it a somehow ominous look.