My Great Aunt Phyllida never married or had children. She’d always lived with a variety of loyal canine companions who took the roles of partner, friend and surrogate child.

'Look after my Max, ' she pleaded, ‘See he goes to a good home, no children mind, he can’t abide children at his age.’

I nodded and made the right noises.

My aunt closed her eyes but just when I thought I’d have to call a nurse, she spoke again.

‘Peaceful..if you give in….cold..I know! Let go, don’t struggle, just let go! You shouldn’t have taken it, it’s mine, you will give it back!’

A tear rolled down her cheek and she opened her eyes and stared straight ahead.

Weeks after the funeral, while clearing out her house I found a dusty old suitcase under the bed containing an assortment of old lady belongings. Embroidered hankies, odd screw in earrings, and a fading black and white photo circa early 1930’s. Two little girls sat in a faraway garden during a long gone pre war summer. One child was easily identified as Aunt Phyllida, her severe features and prickly personality evident even then, but who was the other?

I unwrapped a silk bundle at the bottom of the case, inside was a little porcelain doll with stringy yellow hair and a missing eye, her white pinafore greying and torn. Alongside the forgotten toy was a folded newspaper cutting . It announced the sad death by drowning of little Audrey Roper aged only eight. The accompanying picture confirmed Audrey as the other girl in the photo, nestling in her arms was her beloved flaxen haired doll, a real beauty , Audrey beamed like a mother with a newborn in contrast Phyllida sneered, perhaps wishing great harm to the doll or its…owner.