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‘However, Gail could not hide her beauty from the world. And one day, a dashing messenger from London caught and held her gaze.’

He turned to face the inn. ‘In those days, Gail was a familiar sight around the Speckles Arms, usually coming to revive her drunken father and carry him back home to the forge before returning to her husband in the vicarage.

‘And it was there, in the Speckles Arms, that Gail and her lover would meet. Whenever this man passed through the village, he would secretly meet up with Gail, and for some months they kept their liaison secret, until the day that her husband, the priest, decided to visit the forge shortly after Gail had told him she was going to find her father.

‘When the priest found her father already at the forge, drunken but nonetheless at work, he realised he had been deceived. He took up a steel poker, hot from the forge’s fire, and he carried it with him to the Speckles Arms. And there, on our very stairs, he encountered Gail, arm in arm with her lover, still warm from the heat of their passion. And he smote the man. And he drove his flaming poker into the man’s heart on the step right there that I showed you.’

‘Oh dear,’ Kelly said.

‘And then, with Gail consumed by anguish, howling her anger, the priest fled into the night, with Gail following behind.’ Martin sighed, shaking his head. ‘In the morning, his body was discovered at the base of the bluff beneath the hangman’s tree.’

‘Oh dear,’ Kelly said. ‘Did he fall, or was he pushed?’

Martin smiled. ‘This is the part of the legend that no one has ever been able to solve.’ He raised his arms again. ‘Did the priest, in his sorrow, climb up to the hilltop and throw himself to his death? Or was he caught by Howling Gail, whose anger made her push from the top of the cliff?’

‘So what happened to Gail?’

‘She was never found,’ Martin said. ‘In those days, the village was surrounded by thick forest, and it is suggested that Gail spent her last days living as a maddened vagrant before succumbing to the elements. The elements that then blew her soul back here to the Speckles Arms in order to be with her lover in death forever.’ He smiled. ‘Or it could be that she somehow found her way to a better place, where she lived out a life of happiness.’

‘But you think she came back here, don’t you?’

‘A dozen or more people claim to have seen a ghostly figure or heard the howling of a distressed witch, so I am in no doubt whatsoever that Gail’s spirit resides now within these ancient walls, even if her body lies undiscovered somewhere else.’

He turned, sipping his drink, staring theatrically across the garden towards the distant tree on the hilltop.

‘But,’ he said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘no one knows for sure. Perhaps one day the truth of Gail’s story will be told.’

5

A Bottomless Well and a Pair of Lovers’ Hands

Kelly stopped by her room before going out to meet Ambrose, being careful not to step on the stair where Gail’s secret lover had supposedly died, picking up a jacket and a little woolly hat since it was getting rather cold.

As she pulled her hat over her head, she remembered the lock of hair that Esmeralda had cut off and wondered whether it would end up as part of a lucky charm or perhaps a voodoo doll to bring her endless misfortune.

Cute.

‘So far, so good,’ she thought as she went back downstairs, then outside to meet Ambrose.

She wasn’t late because she wasn’t really sure what time they were supposed to be meeting, although she was perhaps a little past twilight, with the last of the evening sun dipping below the houses to the west.

The streetlights had all come on, and she noticed with a hint of amusement that some of them appeared to be more orange than traditionally amber, as though every facet of Briar Speckles was geared towards celebrating Halloween.

Surprising, too, considering that she had grown up in Brentwell, not twenty miles away, was that until her assignment she’d never actually heard of Briar Speckles’ supposedly famous Halloween parade.

Perhaps it had always been a local festival like a lot of the others in the area and had only gained a little notoriety with the social media generation.

As it was, she already had one great story about the history of the Howling Gail Inn and its eponymous ghost, which she felt certain would make a great leading feature.

She hadn’t had time to call her boss, but she would definitely do so when she got back to the inn later tonight, just to remind him that if they were planning on making cuts, her head wasn’t quite ready for the guillotine yet.

Ambrose, still wearing his eye patch, was sitting on a bench outside the churchyard next to the pumpkin that Kelly had found on the bonnet of her car.

He stood up as she approached and then gave a theatrical bow, making her wonder if everyone in this quaint little village had a background in stage drama.

‘Ah, you made it,’ he said. ‘And there I was thinking perhaps you’d had cold feet.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Martin kept me a little longer than I was expecting.’