After about 20 minutes Mr Wilkins stopped the video and gave out a photocopied sheet. 'There you are, Councillor Rigby. This is his obituary from the local paper. He died in 1960 aged 75. He was on the council before the First World War and again in the Twenties and Thirties when he became an alderman. He was mayor in 1936 and represented Cressington ward.'

Interesting, but it was the second half of the video that nearly caused Catherine to fall form her seat much to the surprise of her fellow students who were not that keen on the film, lacking as it did, sound. The scene was of some sort of church parade, and worshippers in their best clothes filed into the local church. There were scouts and guides in uniform and in amongst the adults that entered behind them, many men also in uniform. Every body was smiling. One of these she recognised immediately as the man from number 28. And what's more, he did not seem to have changed much over the years.

This scene was surprising enough. What came on the screen a few minutes later almost caused her to leap to her feet. It was film of a gymkhana. A few horses jumping fences while children sat at tables wearing party hats and adults stood around laughing, all silently.

What startled Catherine was that the event was taking place in the field behind her house now occupied by the junior school. The camera pointed at one stage towards the back of her house and that of her neighbours. There in the garden of number 28 looking over the wall at the events in the field stood the man again, still in uniform. He was about three feet to one side of a young women dressed in black who cradled a small baby in her arms. Then the camera moved on.

Catherine was so keen on the film and given that it featured so much of her village and even her own house she was able to persuade the tutor to let her borrow the film for a week to show her family.

That night she sat with her mum and dad and watched the film again. They were
impressed with 1940s film of the village and of the house and made plans to copy the tape.

Her dad had an idea. 'Old George next door, he's been here all his life. I'm sure he'd be interested to see this, after all, his house is on the film as well.'

'He may recognise some of the people in the film', added Catherine's mum.

George Parker lived next door at number 30 and had done all his life, taking over the house when his mother died. He was now in his mid sixties and had been retired from the local newspaper for over five years. As predicted by Catherine's father, he was keen to see the film and the following Saturday morning they all sat in his front room and ran the video again.

Catherine's mum was right, George did recognise many of the people. At the church parade he saw himself in scout uniform. 'It was a Whit procession. Used to have them in those days.'

'Who's the chap there?' Catherine pressed the remote control pausing the picture. 'The soldier, second on the left.'

George peered at the screen. 'Difficult to tell. Hang on. It's Arthur Gilderstone. Lived at number 28. Tank Corps. That's the black beret. Died in the war.' He stopped, swallowed. 'He was a friend of mine. Five or so years older, like, but a pal. I was upset when I heard he'd been killed.'

Catherine's heart missed a beat and she went silent and said no more, her mind confused. Was it possible? No it must have been a mistake. Perhaps his grandson had followed his footsteps into the army.

The scene of the gymkhana caused George some confusion. 'There's Arthur again. With his wife and baby. Strange, I would have sworn that particular gymkhana was to celebrate VE Day. But Arthur couldn't have been there. It must have been a year or so earlier. Odd though, what with the kiddies party...'

After the video was over they talked some more and it turned out that over the years George had kept in touch with the son of Arthur Gilderstone, the baby in the picture. It seemed that Arthur's widow had stayed on in the house of her mother-in-law and reared her son, young Arthur. The boy had grown-up and eventually left home. His mother had died in the early 1970s. 'Young' Arthur, now himself approaching his mid-50s, lived across in York and regularly visited George and his old neighbourhood.

'I'll give him a ring tonight. He'll be keen to take a look at the film and a picture of his dad.'

And he was keen to see the film. So much so in fact that he came over from York the following weekend and George brought him round and made the introductions. He was a short man with a rosey complexion and fair hair starting to go grey.

They watched the video, fast forwarding through the less relevant sections until they reached the Whit procession.

'Yes, that's my dad. I recognise him from the photographs of my mother's. I'm surprised he's not in the parade. In uniform. He must have been home on leave.' His voice was faltering and he was holding back tears only with great difficulty. Catherine waited anxiously for the gymkhana scene worried that Mr Gilderstone would breakdown completely.

When the scene came on he had regained his composure. 'Yes that's mum and me I can't really remember the party but mum told me later that she kept me away from the others on VE Day because I'd had something infectious. You can see she's wearing black. Dad had been killed on D-Day, June 1944. I don't suppose she'd have felt that happy on the end of the war.'

Catherine couldn't believe her eyes. The scene was the same as she remembered it - the party, the horses, the women in black, the babe in arms. Gone, however, was the soldier. She looked at George, he was obviously mystified too and later was convinced he had been mistaken when he first viewed the film.

They sent Arthur Gilderstone a copy of the video. She never saw the young man down the side of number 28 again and on the rare occasions she had call to go down to the side of the house, to drop off a Christmas card for example, it was no longer as cold as it had been when she was younger.