Friends of Dorothy

Stevie flung open the door to find a very old woman sitting on a small red sofa, staring straight at her. 'Are you a ghost?' The woman chuckled. 'Any day now.' 'Sorry, sorry, obviously not.' Stevie tried to slow her breathing and be more reasonable. 'What are you doing here?' 'I live here,' came the confident reply. 'No, that can't be true. I live here . . . I mean, my wife Amber and I ... We will be living here.' The woman reached out for Stevie's hand as if in sympathy, giving her hand a slight squeeze. 'I don't think so.'

Sandi Toksvig