The Scottish house

 

Another ghost story, that I suspect nobody will believe
you see, these days if somebody isn’t possessed by an evil demon,
Or if a team of bible bashing Priests are not exorcising a head-spinning teenager
Or if it’s shown on one of the dubious ghostly television programs, which now seem to saturate our screens, they will soon be more popular than the cooking programs. it just will not be taken seriously.

Well let’s see…

A few weeks ago my wife and I visited Scotland, on a short holiday
our destination was a tiny village on the west coast where little had changed for decades.
They had electricity, but few other mod cons from our most recent century.
A place where time had appeared to stand still but was not the worse for it.

A picturesque lonely village with maybe 200 houses, a local shop come post office, a school, two pubs a Church and of course an obligatory long since abandoned haunted house on the hill next to the churchyard. All overlooking the sea

To many an idyllic setting, then, and certainly a nice place to spend a few days break.

On our first day my wife went to the shop to get bread and milk etc. while I walked up the hill to the church and the house beyond. It drew my attention on first sight of it and fascinated me that no other building was built near it and that the road was not even maintained past the church entrance.

As I passed the church and the graveyard, the house now showed itself in its full glory. A large house, I suspected it would have at least six bedrooms. It was almost black in colour, and timber built, from above half its height, the base was grey stone. The front garden was small no more than a few paces from the broken picket fence to the front door. To the side of the front of the house was two trap doors leading to a cellar, which was heavily padlocked,

To the right side of the house was a side garden, it attached to the graveyard, and moreover two gravestones were in the far corner of the garden and not in the graveyard, actually on the wrong side of the churchyard wall

A mans voice from behind me said, “Can I help you sonny?”
I turned to see an elderly man 70 or so I guess, a small thin man in old working clothes and muddy boots. I assumed he was the gardener or perhaps graveyard attendant.

“I said Hello there and explained that I am just visiting the area and was curious about this old house. I was just looking, and did not mean to trespass.” I introduced myself, tying to be ingratiating

“I am Gower the caretaker, Tom Gower” he said “Have you come to see the ghost then?”
He did not seem to be a Scott, which I found surprising.
And this was not the question or response I was expecting, but not to miss a chance.
“Oh Yes!  Please I said could I look around the house?”
“Help yourself sonny the doors not locked;” he laughed, quite irritatingly. It appeared to me as though he was almost mocking me.

I tried the door and it Opened with a creaking noise reminiscence from an old hammer horror movie, and I remember thinking this was a good start.

I turned to say thanks, but the man had gone about his way.

Leaving the door ajar allowed the hall area to be fully visible, it was devoid of furniture.
It had three doors and the main staircase to the first floor; I also noticed another door under the staircase. There was a constant dripping sound coming from somewhere

I went through the left door, which although stiff, was movable; this was clearly a Library, as it had wall-to-wall bookshelves, all empty, an open fire, was all there was to observe. There was another double door at the far end, which was firmly locked. Each of the shelved walls had a sliding wall ladder equal to the room’s height. The room covered with thick dust on every inch, of every surface.

As I re-entered the hallway, I heard footsteps from upstairs, I called out “Hello who’s there? Is that you Mr Gower?” No reply 

I thought it would keep and went on investigating the downstairs of this house

The Right door next, this was the Kitchen, A genuine Victorian Kitchen. Again long since cleared
I suspected that there was not a stick of furniture in this house. Two double Dublin sinks were still there as were the wall cupboards, open and empty, except for more thick dust.
The kitchen lead onto a dinning room at the back of the house, again I heard footsteps from overhead
It seemed that somebody was definitely upstairs, it sounded like they were dragging something heavy across the floor of the room above.

This dinning room again was empty, dusty, with another open fireplace.
Everything was made of wood the floors, walls, all very dark, old worldly even frightening but not paranormal.
I was now hearing creaking and banging from the next room. This was the Living room, as we would know it, the shutters were loose at the first window and banging in the wind. I tied them back and allowed light into the room.

It was very impressive, a huge room 40 or so feet long and a good 25 feet wide, 5 large windows, I wondered what it must have been like in its hay day.
One window was actually a set of French doors leading to the back garden; another door lead back into the hallway.
There was a large inglenook fireplace and a stone mantle that was half the height of the room.
The French doors lead to quite a large garden overlooking the Sea to the back and the rear of the graveyard to the right.

After I heard more footsteps from upstairs I decided to speak to the occupant
I entered the hallway and started to advance up the stairs, calling out Hello is there anybody there?
No reply.
At the top of the stairs was a corridor leading to four doors to my left and four doors to my right
As the noises seemed to becoming from my right I naturally went to the right. The first door was locked tight as was the second. The third door was ajar and I ventured in.

To my surprise I found myself in the whole of the upstairs of the house, all the walls separating the rooms had been removed
Leaving a space, which was 25ft or so wide but about 70ft long.  All the windows were missing
The whole space was empty except for some old floor length curtains at this end of the room, one of which was entangled with the remains of an old tea chest blowing in the breeze, I surmised that this sound from downstairs would appear to be someone dragging something across the floor It was Pleasing to me to be able to explain away my fears.
It did not explain the footsteps I thought I heard. As there was clearly nobody else here I told myself that I must have been imagining things.

On the opposite side of the corridor was another door with steps leading up to the attic.
I climbed the steps and peered into another huge void of a room the length and breadth of the room below, this room had the holed roof and had been taken over by birds, the floor was covered in an inch thick of bird droppings and I for one was not going to venture into this room, the smell alone was Indescribable, suffice to say it was very unpleasant. With no supporting walls underneath, it would be
far too dangerous to enter anyway.

I went down the main stairs to the hallway and opened the cellar door, the steps down were steep and very dark, I could not see anything, and had no flash light with me, I decided not venture further.

As I left the house and started to walk towards the church, I met the Vicar, Rev Douglas A robust man about forty I would say, he towered over me, he was most definitely a Scot, and his accent was quite hard for me to understand. I said Hello and introduced myself, he was curious about me coming out of the old house

I thought that was locked he said. No I said the old man said it was all right for me to look around
What old man he said this was church property. I said the little old man, he was about 70, called me sonny and had an irritating niggling laugh or snigger, said is name was Gower, Tom Gower that was it.

The vicar now looked at me sternly and after a moment he said I don’t know who you spoke to, but it was not Tom Gower, He said he knew Tom, In fact he had presided over his funeral service must be twenty years ago now.

He beckoned me up the churchyard path and to a gravestone, near the church door 
It read In Memory of Thomas Gower (Sonny) Born 19^th Jan 1910 and Died 1^st June 1986
He said he called everybody sonny, he was caretaker and grounds man at the house and church for nearly fifty years, only interrupted by the War years where he also acted as gamekeeper and warden.

We talked a while, he was intrigued by what I had told to him and said he had heard noises coming from the house himself, but never went in, I explained what I had found with the banging shutters and the tangled curtain upstairs but no ghosts I said, well not inside anyway.

He laughed and said well at least I had a tale to tell the young ones.

We said goodbye and I walked down the hill to where my wife was unbelievably still shopping and talking to the local shopkeeper.

I thought to myself she won’t believe me if I tell her.
Of course I had to say what had happened, the shopkeeper and my wife listened intently.
As I gave a detailed account of the events, I noticed the familiar look on the shopkeepers face
My wife said your kidding, and laughed, the shopkeeper said some one was pulling your leg
She explained that for the last three years there was only a visiting Reverend each Sunday Morning
Ever since the local Reverend Douglas passed away, he was buried in the Kirk yard just behind the grave of his friend Tom Gower

We got in the car and left.