I was beginning to see some sense in statistics but the sense of impending doom was oppressive. I should have recognised that I had real depression an... sought medical help. Even Chloe’s hair brushing lightly against me didn’t lift my mood. Nothing did and my sleep was still disturbed by nightmares. One evening I admitted to Chloe that I wasn’t sleeping well. ‘I know, James,’ she replied. ‘I hear you walking the floor in the early hours and sometimes you talk in your sleep. Lack of sleep isn’t. I feel so close to you. I’m crazy for saying this but I want you to see me so soon. Please try to see me. Caleb.” What a horrible girl, not even looking at her work colleague, I didn’t want him to waste his time on her. She wore too much make-up on anyway, and then I noticed the note had a small picture attached to it. I realised Caleb wasn’t someone who worked with the travel tart; this was someone from years ago. The picture was at least early 1900’s, he was a forces man, dark manly looking. More

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