Part II - The Akenfield Poltergeist
An entry from Golightly’s case book, penned a few days after he received the unsettling letter from his old friend, The Reverend Bond.
June 26, 1899
I managed to speak with the Reverend B on the telephone today. He was agitated and a little incoherent, certainly not as I remember him, and so I have made up my mind to head to visit him forthwith. I am capturing these notes whilst our conversation is still fresh in my mind as I am certain there is a case for me here.
For the sake of the record, let me just mention that B and I had been at Peterhouse together. In my notes I will have to be careful to keep identities and places concealed. It is for the best. So, I will refer to my friend as the Reverend B.
Fondly remembered college years. Golightly and Bond Pictured at Old Court.
The Reverend B had just taken on a living in Sussex ( I can tell you this) some way from the market town of Akenfield. Here I must be careful. But, to establish as carefully as I can the facts of this case, I can also point out that the Reverend B had followed my career to date. Indeed, he had often asked after my work for the British Society of Psychical Research. As Cambridge men, we had known some of the founders. I was always fond of Professor Henry Sidgwick, and in particular Mrs. Verrall. A talented classicist. Those evenings at Selwyn Gardens are fresh in my memory. As is the foundation of the Haunted House Committee. It would be fair to say that my work started with that company, and these notes will eventually be written up properly and submitted to the Committee for possible publication in the Journal.
Reverend B had informed me that he had moved into the Rectory in January of 18XX. I do not want to compromise his position, so these notes will have to withhold precise dates. The Rectory was much larger than the Reverend B required.
His family was small and the property had been built some years back to accommodate the larger families that were popular at that time. Reverend B informed me that most of the rooms were kept locked and out of use, and that his daughters and wife made use of one of the wings of the property which they could keep tolerably warm and neat with the domestic help that they had.
Photograph enclosed in the missive from the Rev Bond. It was apparently taken shortly after the Bond family moved into the Rectory. On the back was written in his unmistakable spidery hand, ‘Margaret and the girls, Nancy and Briggs, 23 May 1898.’
Before he took on the living, my friend had visited the parish a couple of times and had spoken with the previous incumbent and numerous parishioners. It was a rural parish some way from the nearest town, and the Rectory was located a distance from the village. Reverend B found the incumbent most welcoming and the parishioners charming. But there were some misgivings. Almost by accident one of the older parishioners had mentioned that the Rectory was an unlucky place. The incumbent made light of this, and B had dismissed it from his mind.
He had been shown round the Rectory. It sat in grounds, with no neighbouring properties, beside the main road out of the village. Somewhat lonely, B commented in his letter to me.
The incumbent had explained to him that the property had been built in the style of Strawberry Hill Gothic which was very much admired in the middle of the century, but admittedly, was now somewhat old fashioned and a little dilapidated. One gardener did the work of a much more numerous staff, and the servants’ accommodation (with barred windows) was far too commodious for the staff that B or his predecessor employed. Nevertheless, one could easily imagine the building’s former splendour. A lawn, no doubt once neatly mowed, swept down to the woodland that shielded the house from the road and surrounding fields. B and the incumbent stood in the study, looking out through the opened French doors. It was late summer. B told me of watching the midges dancing on the warm, still air, and the shadows lengthening across the gently sloping garden.
B’s letter had mentioned the strange incident of the sermon. He told me of other disturbing events. The goblins, as he called them, had extended their activities to the kitchen. Various things had been displaced. Most alarmingly, the family had been awoken one night by a terrific crashing of crockery that came from the kitchen. B had investigated.
There was no sign of ingress, and he was certain that it could not have been either Margaret or Nancy (why would either of them do such a thing, anyway)? Perhaps the most alarming occurrence was witnessed by both Margaret and B as they lay in bed together. A jewellery box of Margaret’s appeared to be propelled across the room. Both of them found the event inexplicable. I believe that they put a brave face on it, but events continued. The misplacement or disappearance of various things and a sense that Margaret complained of repeatedly of a “ presence” that made her feel increasingly nervous, if not physically sick. Matters got worse still.
One evening (will have to ask B about the precise date) Margaret was making her way along the hallway that leads to their bedroom, when (she claims) she was pushed from behind in the most aggressive of ways. Suffice to say, there was no one behind Margaret. After this she took to her bed, and B cared for her; his own health becoming increasingly delicate. But it was the door banging in the night that finally resolved B and Margaret to send the children away. As with many of the incidents that B described to me, this began with the slamming of a door one evening. But over a period of weeks the incidents increased, to suggest something orchestrated- and- B stressed, malevolent.
Now, I must steady my mind, and ready myself for my trip. I will return to these notes forthwith. It is inclement this morning, I must look out my travelling cape as I do not want to ruin my Cucinelli linen sports jacket. My beaver fur Trilby needs a good brush too, I had put it away imagining the cooler days had passed, but the British summertime seems determined to disappoint once again.
A wire from the Rev Bond found slipped inside Golightly’s casebook.
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