Today, all uninvited, the beast conjured from skull and sheet and ribbons, that haunted my father and through him came to haunt me, arrived not by night in the dead of winter, as it once did with him, but in the back of a car on a bright, sunny morning. And not to do battle this time, but stepping out of the distant past to tread a stately pavane with me under the holly tree in our orchard. Jack barked and proffered his frisbee for play. The rooks called and collared doves fluttered softly about their nests. The circle has closed, at last.