No matter what anyone tells you, trying to balance an artist's panel, groceries, a leather portfolio, and open the door with a set of keys is not easy.

"Forgot the mail..." Dropping my load on an armchair by the door, I push the play button to hear my missed phone messages. "I hope it's a hot guy that wants a date." Alas, it is not, even from my front porch I can tell who it is.

"Message one...If you're there, pick up! It's me, your brother."

"Yeah, thanks, I never would have guessed." Peter, Peter Crowhurst, my half brother really, more than likely working on some big shot architect redesign of an old historical landmark. Coming back in, I kick the door shut with a thud whilst sorting through the mail.

"Egh, I was hoping you were going to be in. I needed you to be in. I know what you're thinking, 'He would have only rung if something was wrong', well something is wrong, very wrong... I am still in Dorset; I am not the only one here. There's two students from Weymouth University - Polly and Nigel, ghost hunters, would you believe. I didn't believe, but I do now." I stop leafing through the mail. Pete has never been one to suggest ghosts,in fact often making me the blunt end many of a joke for following a degree in demonology. He's the one who persuaded me to take an honor's course in Fine Art and Design in order to receive a "real job".

"I need you to leave now! I need you to come here. I would go to police, but, they would just laugh in my face."

"What makes you think I won't just laugh in your face...?"

"Ghost hunters, heh. I think whatever they have been hunting has found them, I think it has found me too... Please help...You were always good with things like this. If you leave now, you can catch the late train from Paddington to Weymouth. From there, take a cab, come to Dowerton station. It's abandoned.

"Abandoned? Why in Hell would I want to go there?"

"I'll be waiting. I really need your help on this... The sooner you can get here, the better. This place is really beginning to freak me out. I tried to find Polly and Nigel earlier, but I couldn't find them anywhere. They wouldn't just leave. This all started a few days ago, it was when-...I can hear it... It's right outside the door...whispering... its whispering my name.... it knows my name...I've got to open the door... I've got to open the door..." Footsteps, a sound of a door opening, a wind like sound, than the sound of the phone falling onto a hard floor.

"Pete?" Reaching for a pen, I hastily press the reply button on the machine.

"You have no messages..."

"What?" Pressing it again, I receive the same answer. "Damn machine." Taking a seat at my computer, I type up an email to send to his wife, otherwise known as his PDA.

"Subject: Message

Hey Pete, What's up with you? April Fool's Day has long gone you know! What is this all about?! You sound like you've either on acid, or lost your mind. Or both. There is no such thing as ghosts, as well as you know. I think you have been in the countryside too long. The clean air is has gone to your head..." I stop to think for a moment. "Even so, you really have me worried. Give me a call as soon as you get this." After ten minutes, I find myself restless. Checking my email, I see he hasn't replied yet. Hastily calling his mobile, I find that it is dead. I resort to calling his office.

"Richard speaking, how can I help?"

"Yeah, this is Ashley, have you spoken to Pete lately?"

"Not lately, want me to try to patch you to him?"

"Please." After a few moments, Vickey, Pete's coworker, comes on the line.

"I'm sorry, but Pete is no available right now. Can I help you?"

"Vicky? Have you spoken to Pete lately?"

"No, shall I leave a memo to him for you?"

"No...But could you tell me what his latest project is?"

"Sure. He was hired by the Crabtree family to draw a draft of an abandoned train station in Dorset: I have him down to be returning in two days. Oh, this train station also had a hotel and restaurant. I believe the owners, the Crabtree family, are hoping to reopen it as a tourist attraction for early nineties train lovers. That's all I know."

"Thanks...tell me if you can raise him, ok?"

"Sure."

"Maybe I can try his mobile. 011...." Rattling off Pete's number, I am quickly put the receiver to my ear, just in time to hear the end of his voice mail. Sighing, I place the phone back into the charger. I glace to the monitor, I start a new message.

"Subject: RE: Message
Hmm, could be tricky. Your mobile is dead. Very dead in fact. I've given the office a call; neither Richard nor Vicky can raise you either. O.k., now I am REALLY worried. You are probably fine, but it doesn't hurt to check." I pause, and then read out loud to myself as I type it.

"I've always wanted to see the West Country anyway..."