The letter

Catherine had solved someone else' s mystery, now it was time to solve her own¼

Catherine was already browsing through the books when the elderly lady came out of the house.

Help yourself, my dear.

We' re moving next week and we can' t take them with us, I' m afraid.'

Some of the books were laid out on the lady' s front garden wall. Others were leaning against it.

There must have been at least a hundred of them in all. Catherine already had three under her arm.

Can I give you something for them?' she asked.

The lady nodded to a small basket which Catherine hadn' t noticed before.

A sign propped up in it, read: Donations welcome.

I haven' t decided on a charity yet,' the lady explained. `And please, only leave something if you can afford to. It' s not a problem.'

Catherine stood and chatted to the lady for several minutes. She discovered she was moving into one of the flats over on the Thornberry estate.

Freddie and I just can' t manage the stairs here any more,' she said. `And a flat will be easier to look after.'

As they spoke, Catherine picked up another book. The lady glanced at it and smiled.

One of my husband' s favourites,' she said.

Catherine frowned. Are you sure you want to give it away?'

The lady nodded. You take it, dear. We really won' t have room for any of them.'

When the lady had gone indoors, Catherine dropped some pound coins into the basket. Then she returned home. She didn' t look at the books again until a couple of days later.

Sorry, Catherine,' Kate said, when she answered the call on Saturday afternoon. I can' t make it tonight.'

Kate cancelling their evening out was something of a relief. It had been a tough week at work, followed by Tim' s leaving party the night before.

She would keep in touch with Tim, of course. Not only were they great friends, but she was also helping him to find a girlfriend. Yet the evening had still somehow carried on until the early hours of the morning.

No problem, Kate,' she replied. I' m happy to stay in and catch up on some reading.'

Later that evening, Catherine curled up in her favourite spot on the sofa with the books from the old lady' s garden.

The first one she opened was a battered copy of

To Kill a Mockingbird, a book she had last read when she did her GCSEs more than a decade ago.

She flicked through the first couple of pages, but somehow couldn' t get started. Then she picked up the next book.

Glancing at the cover, she wondered why she had chosen it. An ancient-looking hardback from the 1960s, its cover featured a semi-abstract portrait of a man and woman kissing. Lessons in Love didn' t sound like the most inspiring title either.

It was only as she was about to give up without even

An envelope was concealed inside the book. It was addressed to someone called Margaret

opening the book, that Catherine spotted something

an envelope was concealed inside. It was addressed to someone called Margaret Whiting.

Was it wrong to open the envelope? Of course it was, but how could she resist?

Besides, the envelope, once crisp and white, was now brown and brittle with age. Any secrets hidden inside would be ancient history.

Catherine opened it.

Dear Margaret, the letter began. Please help me I don't know what to do! Not only are you my best friend, you're al so the wisest person I know. So tell me¼ w hich woman should I marry?

In a few short sentences, the letter had managed to grab Catherine' s attention more than any book.

Did the old lady' s husband have a secret his wife knew nothing about?

Sarah is fun and sees wonder in the smallest of things. When I met her after college a few weeks ago, we were walking through the forest when I realised she was no longer beside me.

I called out her name and guess where she was? Go on, guess! Behind a tree marvelling at an early crocus pushing its pink head optimistically through the lawn. How wonderful is that? And she talks about children and settling down and¼

As Catherine continued reading, she felt a peculiar sense of relief. Apparently this wasn' t some secret love letter

it was Freddie' s long-ago plea for advice.

But Sarah and I aren' t an item' . So when Jack set me up on a date with his cousin, it felt rude to say no.

Mia is wonderful too. The prettiest girl I' ve ever seen. Mia tells the funniest stories and assures me she' ll be a writer one day. I tell her she already is one.

The tales of her brothers and the mischief they get up to would make your hair curl, it really would! So she' s going to write and become famous. Instead of having children of her own, she' s going to write for children instead¼

But now I' m in a right old fix. One of these two girls is the one for me, I can feel it¼ but I don' t know which!

What am I going to do? Please help, Freddie Catherine lowered the letter, gazing into space.

So who did Freddie marry? Sarah or Mia? The only way to find out would be to ask the old lady her name, but then she would have to admit to reading the letter.

Suddenly Catherine felt like she was the one who needed advice. The question burnt away inside of her for almost a week before she came up with a plan.

But it wasn' t a great plan, and in the end, maybe that was why it didn' t work.

Catherine returned to the house where she had found the books. She pushed open the gate and followed the short paved path to the front door. She knocked and waited.

A few seconds later the old lady came to the door. Her already-wrinkled features creased into a puzzled frown.

It was such an open, honest look, that Catherine' s ridiculous lie about needing her name for some magazine article on how books work their way through society just evaporated.

I found a letter,' she blurted out. From your husband to his friend.'

The puzzled frown remained on the old lady' s face for a split second before folding into a smile.

Ah, I see,' she said. Freddie never could make his mind up when it came to big decisions.'

And so?' Catherine said, desperate to know the answer. Had Freddie settled for a wannabe writer who didn' t want children? Or the fun-loving girl who saw beauty in everything? Who are you? Sarah or Mia?'

And that' s when the old lady began to laugh. She laughed until the tears streamed down her face. Until eventually she answered.

Neither. I' m Margaret.'

It' s funny how you often don' t see what' s staring you right in the face, Catherine thought as she walked home.

And with that idea in mind, she took out her phone.

Tim?'

Catherine?'

Are you still looking for a girlfriend?'

She could almost see the frown creasing her friend' s gorgeous face.

Of course I am.'

Well, you can stop now.

I' ve found you one.'

You have? Who is it?' Catherine paused ever so briefly before telling him.

Me.'

One of these two girls is the one for me, I can feel itÉ but I donÕ t know which! What am I going to do?Õ