We can all drift along and wonder where the time has gone. I had reached that point. My husband had died two years ago and I was determined to do something with the rest of my life.

‘I’m selling up and moving,’ I announced to my close friend Betty.

‘Why Sally?’

‘Because I want to do something with my life. I’m still reasonably young and I know George would have approved. We often talked about what each of us would do if the other went first,’ I smiled.

‘That’s awfully morbid dear.’

‘Not at all it’s very sensible. Now look at these brochures, the properties are all very nice but I cannot make up my mind.’ I thrust a pile of papers in Betty’s lap and disappear into the kitchen. Returning with two mugs of tea I find Betty dancing around like a demented blue bottle. ‘Whatever is the matter?’

‘You have to move to this one, you really do. Have you read all these brochures carefully?’

‘Yes?’ I said looking dubiously at her.

‘Are you sure?’ She thrust the paper into my hand.

‘Oh dear, it does sound interesting. I must have skipped over this one. ‘Buyer must be prepared to live with resident occupant who died two centuries ago’. Whatever do you suppose it is?’

‘Why don’t we go down and find out? I fancy a trip to the Cotswolds.’

I informed the estate agent of my interest in the property and went with Betty to view the cottage the following week. The agent, Mr Hodge, met us outside an adorable cottage, immediately I fell in love with it.

‘If you don’t mind I’ll just stay outside while you view the cottage,’ he said clearing his throat and looking extremely uneasy.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘You did read the brochure didn’t you?’

‘Of course and we know there is a ghost.’

‘That’s the reason I’ll stay outside; she doesn’t happen to like men.’

‘Why ever not?’
‘On account that she was burnt at the stake. She was found guilty of witchcraft by a group of men. I still have the bruises from the last visit when a saucepan came hurdling at my arm.’ He rubbed his arm as if it had just happened expecting to extract some sympathy. We looked at each other and laughed, taking the key and I marched up to the door.

Time passed and Mr Hodge kept checking his watch but the two ladies had not emerged from the cottage. He hadn’t heard any screams and he was getting a little curious. He crept up to the cottage and peered through the window, he couldn’t see anyone in the sitting room. He walked round to the kitchen and there seated at the table were Sally and Betty who appeared to be deep in conversation with someone else. As he moved closer to see who they were talking to a saucepan came hurdling through the air towards the window. He managed to duck out of the way as the window shattered into myriads of pieces. He ran back to his car terrified.

I rushed out of the cottage to check on Mr Hodges he was a little shaken but he’d live.

‘I’ll take the cottage.’ He looked at me incredulously

‘Mr Hodge you’re a man you don’t understand women’s things. Clare, the ghost, was framed as a witch because she wouldn’t do what the squire wanted. I’ll leave your imagination to work that out. She was so full of life and loved everything. She often would be up early in the morning picking herbs and flowers from the hedgerows. Someone told the squire and that was enough to get her burnt. There’s no wonder she gets angry when she sees a man. My moving here will give me the kick start I need, plus I have a new friend to share things with.’

‘What about me?’ protested Betty.

‘You can visit anytime you like. I think I’m going to be very happy here.’ There was a rap on the sitting room window and Mr Hodge thought he saw an outline of a woman laughing at him.