“Pluckerslea Hall… is it really… haunted?” This is a question often asked by visitors to the stately home.
“No, I don’t think so,” comes the reply.
“But… what about all those weird lights, tinkling pianos, spooky notes from invisible violins and disembodied voices whispering in the dark, and strangest of all, the delicious aromas of hot soup, crusty bread, cakes and buns wafting from cold and empty kitchens?”
“Well… yes. Pluckerslea Hall certainly could be haunted.”
Many years ago, the owner of the Pluckerslea Estate was down on his luck. With no money for repairs, the grand old house became terribly neglected.
Rain poured in through the sagging roof, plaster crumbled, wallpaper buckled, collapsing in ribbons of mildew and mould. Rusty water dribbled from taps and the leaking water pipes went knock, wh-oosh, bang! gurgle gurgle, all night long. Gas lamps spat and hissed and when the north wind blew, curtains billowed and carpets that were not nailed down would shiver and writhe, rising from the floor like living things.
As if that wasn’t enough there were the ‘ghosts’ – oh yes – creepy ‘goings on’ which made things most miserable for the nearly penniless Lord Marmaduke Pluckers and the lovely former Russian ballerina, Lady Nadia, who had met and married his Lordship, while touring Ireland in the company of the great ballerina, Anna Pavlova.
When they could stand it no more, the Pluckers packed coronets and gowns, loaded cases and trunks into a wagon and moved butler, cook, housemaid, the dogs and four poster beds to the cosy peacefulness of Dower House on the other side of the lake.
The Pluckerslea cats, Lord Marmaduke’s beloved British Blues, of which there were many, and one quite rare Russian Blue named Pusska Petinsky, who was introduced to the Estate by Lady Nadia, seemed quite at ease and not in the least bit bothered by musty mildew and soggy sewers; and the ghostly manifestations? They ignored them. The Pluckers-Moggs, as the cats were known, would stay at Pluckerslea Hall and do what cats are meant to do: guard against unwelcome visitors, keeping rats and mice at bay.
Now living happily in genteel poverty at Dower House, Lord Marmaduke and Lady Nadia never forgot their responsibilities regarding Pluckerslea Hall. They couldn’t just leave the old place to fall down; it had been in the family for centuries and so a plan was made. Money being tight, they decided that with all the ghostly goings on, the house should begin to earn its keep.
After a quick patch up and paint job, and a few extra potted plants, Pluckerslea Hall was opened to the public during the hours of daylight. The Haunted House, as it became known, was open to anyone willing to pay the entrance fee. At first business was slow, but as the Hall’s ghostly reputation grew, visitor numbers increased, cash trickled in and restoration began.
To this day, 10am to 5pm, Easter to Halloween: Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays and Bank Holiday Mondays, a stream of paying visitors flows through. From the golden opulence of the grand staircase, stately rooms and quiet chapel, to dark and dingy corridors and attics; from well-scrubbed kitchens to cold and stony cellars, they explore it all. The more imaginative visitors, with quickly beating hearts, hold their breath, for at any second they are sure they will bump into a real ghost, waiting for them around the next corner.
Open days see harassed teachers herding crocodiles of small, excited pupils quickly past beady-eyed guides, jealously guarding the priceless treasures on display.
Woolly-scarfed, bespectacled students of architecture and history, armed with guide books, pencils and notepads, scribble endlessly, their rubber-soled trainers squeak-squeaking as they tread softly across highly polished floors.
Out in the grounds, frustrated parents steer babies in buggies and wilful toddlers safely through the maze, round to the children’s playground and then on to the furry and feathery delights of Pets’ Corner.
Ageing folk in sensible shoes take tea and scones in the Cosy Kettle Tea Rooms. Then, with walking sticks tapping, they sniff the flowers while secretly stripping seeds for their own trim bungalow beds and borders back home. And then there are those dreamy-eyed romantics, hiding and giggling, whispering sweet nothings in the shadows of the shrubbery.
At dusk, with his little dogs Eric and Daisy May at heel, head gardener Charlie locks the gates. Lord Peregrine Pluckers, great-grandson of Lord Marmaduke and Lady Nadia, gathers the day’s takings to be counted back at Dower House, which he occupies with his wife Lady Catherine, their small son and heir the Honourable Freddy, and Smudge, the Honourable Freddy’s black Labrador.
When visitors have returned to their homes all is quiet, apart from the odd crisp packet crackling in a prickle bush, or a crumpled guide map flapping along the cobbles. Now it is time for the real occupants of Pluckerslea Hall to appear… yes… those ones… the very beings whose ancestors gave it the reputation of a Haunted House.
Are these unearthly spirits from ‘the other side’? No! They are living creatures of flesh and blood. So what are they doing at Pluckerslea Hall? You may well ask… but wait!
Who is this dancing through the daisies; ears pricked, long tail up, pale green eyes glowing in the dark? Why… it’s a big black cat.
Listen! I think – yes I’m sure – he is about to speak…