Mother liked to collect antiques, but old things come with a history. The beautiful woman in the portrait that accompanied the Tudor four-poster bed held a secret, which she only revealed in the dead of night.

The Bed

Sis and I jumped from one stone pillar to the next, careful not to fall down the cracks between the pitted, uneven flagstones, where the ghosts of the old mansion waited to snatch us into their spirit world.

From our improvised playground in the spacious hall, we heard wheels rolling on the gravel outside, and the rumbling of a vehicle engine, a very big engine. We heard footsteps, and then the bell jangled at a distance, further inside the house.

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