As I drove through Wrexford one June day, I saw an old woman. She stood by the roadside and gazed expectantly at the passing cars. A suitcase and a holdall bag lay at her feet.
I slowed my car to a halt and peered through the windscreen. She was a very plump woman and wore an old-fashioned dress and bodice and a bonnet on her head. She poked her nose through the open nearside window.
“Going to Winterton?”
“Yes,” I said, “hop in.”
“My bags?”
“Hold on, I’ll give you a hand.” I got out and lifted the two cases into the boot of the car. They’re heavy, I thought. I wonder what’s in them.
We drove off towards Winterton and I tried to strike up a conversation.
“Where have you come from?”
“From the museum.”
“The Wrexford Museum?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing there? Just visiting, or doing some research?”
“I lived there.”
“You lived there. Oh, I see. Were you employed in some way at the museum?”
“No, I lived in the museum.”
“Oh!” What a strange woman.
Seeing that this conversation wasn’t leading anywhere, I tried a different tack.
“Why are you going to Winterton?”
“I’m going to the castle.”
“To live there, I suppose.”
“Yes. How did you guess? I have a dungeon booked and waiting for me.”
I gave up trying to talk and reached for the radio control. I’ll just watch the road and enjoy the scenery.
A few minutes later, I glanced in her direction and noticed she held a letter. The headed notepaper bore the title and logo of the Wrexford Museum.”
“It’s a reference letter,” she said.
I nodded but declined to comment.
We continued in silence until we reached the town of Winterton.
“Just drop me at the front gate of the castle.”
I stopped the car and got out to help her with her bags. I opened the boot and lifted out the holdall. It seems much lighter than before! I hauled on the second larger case. This one’s not.
“Thank you,” she said as I drove away. She waved.
I continued on my journey, puzzled by the strange woman, the museum, the castle and the bags. Then an object on the passenger seat caught my attention. It was the letter.
Curiosity got the better of me. I found a place to pull over and stopped the car again. I snatched up the letter. It was dated April 1st 1809, and read:
To whom it may concern
Miss Elizabeth Swinley has lived at the Wrexford Museum for over two hundred years. She has always been an honest and trustworthy member of our community. It is with sadness that I have allowed her to leave and wish her a successful and long future with you at Winterton Castle. Just one word of caution – beware of the anaconda.
I sensed a green blur dart from behind me. It wrapped itself around my body and neck and squeezed.
