Lucy scrabbled through the box of old photographs. Technicolour faded into Polaroids which in turn faded to sepia and finally, with Lady Jessica Waters 1824 – 1902, a series of daguerreotypes. She stared at the image of her great-great grandmother. "Why are there no photographs of her as a little girl?"
Julie sat down and looked at the portrait of the fifty-something matron. "They didn't have cameras when she was a girl," she said. "There's a portrait of her in the Long Gallery if you'd like to look, though."
"Not really." Lucy shook her head. "It's too cold in there and the man with the runny nose scares me."
"What man with the runny nose?"
"The one in the painting third from the end."
"Ah! A painting."
"No. I said he's in the painting. I didn't say he was the painting."
"A spirit, you mean?"
Lucy shrugged. "I suppose. he sniffs at me." She demonstrated by closing one nostril with her finger and sniffing. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't hurt anyone."
"Be that as it may," said Julie. "I'll speak to your father about him."
"If you like." Lucy rooted through the photographs. "Why aren't there any pictures of Mummy here?"