Jo took one last look in the mirror next to the front door, adjusted her rimless glasses and slung her shoulder bag over her shoulder, which contained the mysterious photo of the garden gate. Newton purred a sceptical ‘See you later’ before demonstratively curling up in his favourite spot. On her way to the Kaffeeklatsch café, Jo slowly pushed her bike past the colourful facades, her thoughts spinning like wheels that weren’t quite turning smoothly. She took the photo out of her bag and looked at it again: a weathered garden gate, overgrown with wild ivy, with the number 27 on it. Something stirred inside her at the sight of…