““How did you know, Harry?” “How did I know what?” “That his wife wasn’t from his time?” The ageing man lifted the bottle of whisky and spun the metal lid off the glass top. She could smell the heady fumes of liquor as he lifted the open bottle to his mouth. “Look closely at the portrait, Grace. Look at her wrist.” She scanned the image, fighting the rising panic inside her. “It’s my watch,” she whispered. Harry put out his arm and dangled the bottle in front of her. “Here, have some of this.” G...race shook her head, wrinkling her nose at the smell. “I don’t drink spirits.” “It’s time you started then girl,” he said, lifting the bottle to his mouth again and taking a large sip. “Harry I don’t understand. How could I have come to be in this portrait?” “That is the mystery we must solve.” “That portrait must be almost four hundred years old. That’s not a mystery in my book. It’s weird.” He nodded, taking another sip from the bottle. “Can’t argue with you there, girl.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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