For two days, Mina kept the key with her. At work, it was in her pocket. At night, it was under her pillow. She often took it out and looked at the tag again. Every evening, she checked the letterbox, but it was empty.
On Thursday, she told her friend Grace about the key. Grace was her colleague at work. "Maybe it's a game," said Grace. "Or maybe somebody likes you!" Mina laughed, but she was not sure. She told Grace about Mr Walker too. "Maybe he knows something," said Grace.
"Are you going to call the police?" Grace asked. "What can I tell them?" said Mina. "Someone gave me a key with my name on it?" "OK," said Grace. "But be careful on Friday."
Friday came. Mina left work early and got home at half past five. She locked the doors and turned on all the lights. Then she sat down with the key and waited for seven o'clock.
Next door, Mr Walker's house was dark. His car was not there. Usually he was at home in the evening. Where was he tonight?
At half past six, she made tea, but she didn't drink it. At a quarter to seven, she checked the front door. At five to seven, she went to the window. The street was quiet.
The clock on the wall was loud. Six fifty-eight. Six fifty-nine. At seven o'clock, someone outside called her name.
"Mina!" It was a woman's voice. Mina's heart beat very fast. She was afraid, but she wanted to know. She went to the front door and opened it.
There was nobody there. The garden was empty, and the street was empty too. "Hello?" Mina said. "Who's there?" Nobody answered.
Mina walked to the gate. Then she noticed something white. It was on the gate, next to the letterbox. She took it carefully. It was an old photo.
The colours in the photo were faded. It showed a wooden house with a red door. A woman stood in front of the house. A little boy stood next to her. Both of them were smiling. The boy had something small in his hand.
Mina looked at the photo. Then she looked at her house. The same red door. The same windows. The same letterbox.
On the back of the photo, there were some words: "Tui Lane, 1995." Mina felt cold. It was her house, more than thirty years ago. Somebody wanted her to see it.