Shrouded in white a woman stepped in front of the startled driver in the lonely car on Blue Bell Hill Road. Ian pulled up sharp but he had bundled her under the front wheels.

 

Judith had been killed in a car crash on the A229 on the day of her wedding and the memory had been maintained by a regular supply of flowers by the roadside building a mythology of the journey.

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When Ian got out his car there was nothing there. No girl. No white dress. No Body. No animal. Not anything.

 

Was he a victim of Judith’s return?