“I’ve lost a photograph!” announced The Mother as we walked through the door ready for our family Sunday dinner.

“That doesn’t sound too drastic,” I replied, my mind more on the roast chicken aroma emanating from the kitchen than a missing snap.

“It’s the one of me and your father which you put in a frame for me the week he died. It’s an awful picture of both of us, but it captures us just the way we were. He was pretending to throttle me,” she added worryingly.

“It’s sat on the window sill in the living room for 16 years and now it’s vanished,” she said.

“You probably accidentally packed it away when you got rid of all the Christmas decorations,” I said helpfully.

“I wouldn’t have done that…and I’ve dusted that window countless times since Christmas,” replied The Mother, with a look which silently condemned us for not dusting our sills on a more regular basis.

“When did you notice it was missing?” asked the housemate.

“Today…I went it to do some dusting and there it was…gone! I’ve searched everywhere and there’s no sign of it.”

“Let’s be logical about this,” I said, slightly concerned the roast potatoes were being neglected while we played Miss Marple in the search for the picture. “You’ve either packed it with the decorations or it wasn’t brought back downstairs after the film crew used the house before Christmas.”

“I’d have noticed it was missing before now,” said The Mother resolutely sticking her her guns.

“I’ll go and have a look around the house and you go and check the dinner,” I suggested not wanting to get away from the main reason for our visit.

Having completed a circuit of the downstairs I headed upstairs to check the bedrooms only to find the missing picture in pride of place on the window sill in my bedroom - because yes, my sister and I have claimed our own rooms even through we’ve never lived in the house.

Triumphantly heading downstairs I bumped into the housemate.

“Just put it back and pretend it’s just re-appeared,” she whispered.

“I can’t gaslight my own mother,” I replied, shocked at her suggestion, although slightly tempted.

“You found it!” cried The Mother in delight, emerging from the kitchen to see what all the whispering was about and proving that her new hearing aids were a marked improvement on the old ones.

“It was upstairs in my room,” I said before the housemate could suggest otherwise.

“Well how do you think it got there? I’ve dusted the window sill in there as well countless times,” she added. “Did you see it when you stayed at Christmas?

I was forced to admit that I hadn’t actually noticed anything out of place in my room over the festive season.

“ Looking at it sensibly it was packed away when you moved stuff upstairs for the filming and you put it on the window and forgot to bring it back down with you,” said my sister as The Mother shook her head resolutely.

“The only other explanation is that it’s ghosts,” I added. “I did warn you about the dangers of letting someone shoot a horror film in your living room!”