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Beneath the excessive décor was an ancient inn. All buckled beams and stone walls and worn carpets, chipped skirting boards and narrow staircases, and a smell of lacquer and age.

From what she could see of the rooms through doors left open, the whole place was cramped but cosy. Tables and chairs were nestled into alcoves, and curved hardwood bar tops displayed lines of drink bottles and wine glasses and pumps for traditional ales.

As she passed one door beneath a sign that said Main Bar, she caught a glimpse of a couple of men sitting at the bar who turned towards her as she passed. One of them wore an eye patch. The other had a smooth bald head and a large handlebar moustache. So stereotypical for a Halloween-themed village they were, that Kelly couldn’t help but chuckle. Both glared at her before turning back to frothy pints of amber-coloured ale.

‘We hope you’ll have time to join us all for a drink in the bar during your stay,’ Martin said, pausing at the bottom of a staircase beside the main bar to allow Kelly a good look at the beer pumps. ‘We have some classics, and a few local favourites we’re sure you’ll enjoy.’

She recognised a couple of the names on the pumps. One was Doom Bar, which made her smile, although she knew it actually referred to a sandbar off Saint Austell in Cornwall. Another was Smugglers Ale, another popular drink common around Devon.

A third had a picture of a cackling witch and was one she didn’t know, called Goblin Brew.

‘I can’t wait,’ she said, glancing at Martin. ‘I’m looking forward to hearing a few of the local myths and legends.’

‘Would I be right in thinking that you are a student of such … occult themes?’ Martin asked.

Her boss at The Brentwell Daily had obviously given the landlord a few details. As part of her journalism course at Exeter University, she had done a module in traditional customs and ancient mythological beliefs, having never thought she would need any of it in her job. It had just sounded interesting. However, rather than turning her into a believer of all things supernatural, it had done quite the opposite. She had learned all manner of fascinating nuggets of information, such as how it was believed that certain building materials used in the construction of many supposedly haunted houses could cause people of a certain disposition to hallucinate, thereby giving rise to some of the legends about local ghosts.

Not that she was entirely a sceptic. She was perfectly open-minded. She would be quite happy to believe in ghosts if she ever saw one.

But as of yet, she never had, and while the Howling Gail looked like the kind of place to attract paranormal attention, she wouldn’t be surprised at all if she left at the end of her stay without having seen or heard anything unusual at all.

‘I’ll take you up to your room,’ Martin said. ‘Just follow me up the stairs. You can leave your cases here.’

He lifted a hand and clicked his fingers.

A door Kelly hadn’t even noticed opened in a side wall, and two girls stepped forwards.

Kelly blinked, wondering if perhaps she was starting to hallucinate after all.

They were clearly identical twins. Both had pretty, round faces, with delicate features and piercing blue eyes, and both wore ornate, frilly maid dresses that hung down to their ankles, with bonnets tied over heavily permed ringlets of auburn hair.

‘My serving wenches,’ said Martin with a flourish of his cape. ‘On the left we have Miranda in the blue bonnet, and on the right is Esmerelda in the red.’

The two girls, without skipping a beat, tilted their heads outwards, grinned, and said in unison, ‘Charmed.’

Kelly took a step back before covering her mouth to suppress a little chuckle.

‘The girls will bring your cases up,’ Martin said, waving for Kelly to follow him up the stairs.

Halfway up, he paused, pointed at a wooden plaque low down on the wall, and then indicated the stair that lay in accordance with it.

‘A note of caution,’ he said. ‘Never, ever step here.’ He nimbly stepping over the stair in question. ‘Here is where the body of Gail’s lover was found. Stepping here is sure to send her into a frenzy.’

‘Oh. Do you mind if I take a picture?’ Kelly said.

‘Be my guest,’ Martin said, letting out a cackle of laughter. ‘But how about you get settled first before you begin to explore?’

‘That sounds like a good idea,’ Kelly said, stepping over the stair before glancing back to see Miranda and Esmerelda standing at the bottom of the stairs, peering up at her, reminding her uncannily of the twins in The Shining, albeit a little older and more elaborately dressed.

They reached a landing, and Martin led her to a door at the end.

‘Your room,’ he said. ‘Number Thirteen.’

Kelly looked around and saw that, in fact, every door was numbered 13, apart from one at the far end that was numbered 666.

‘What’s in that one?’ she said.

‘Ah, that is the wedding suite,’ Martin said.