Haunted Scotland (11 page)

All of this led to an escalating sense of unhappiness and
frustration, and on a November night, both of the girls came racing downstairs from their bedroom to inform their
startled parents that they had heard a strange noise in the room above. Their arrival at the foot of the stairs coincided with what sounded like a bouncing ball following them.

Over the week that followed, loud knocking sounds were heard after the girls had gone to bed and the local minister, the Reverend TW Lund, was approached for his advice. On visiting the house
after the girls had been sent to bed, he too heard the loud knockings and suggested that perhaps they came from the head board. When a heavy linen chest began to rock from side to side before
rising from the floor and moving in the direction of the bed, it became obvious that something needed to be done about it fast. The following night there were further knocking sounds. A china vase
moved. An apple rose from out of a bowl and a sewing machine started to whir all on its own.

Such bizarre occurrences were not restricted to the family’s home. In Virginia’s schoolroom, her teacher, Margaret Stewart, witnessed a desk rise off the ground, and when Virginia
approached it, a blackboard pointer started to vibrate before falling onto the floor. Virginia was becoming increasingly dazed and hysterical. Anyone could see that medical help was urgently
required.

Neither Dr WH Nisbet nor Dr William Logan, the local practitioners, had encountered anything like this before, and they decided to install a tape recorder and movie camera in the girls’
bedroom to capture sound and movement, including Virginia becoming hysterical. Meanwhile, the Reverend Lund and three of his colleagues prayed for divine intervention.

The turmoil lasted several weeks. Investigators were baffled until, as soon as Virginia was reunited with her dog Toby, the noises stopped.

Shortly before he emigrated to Canada in 1970 to become director of the Toronto-based New Horizons Research Foundation, the well-known geneticist and university lecturer Dr
George Owen was asked for his opinion and attributed the entire episode to prepubescent energy brought on by Virginia’s homesickness and shyness. There was no trickery involved. The Campbell
family appeared to be loving and stable.

Which all goes to prove that the power of the subconscious is a formidable opponent when aroused.

Exorcism is far more regularly practised than is generally thought. In Chapter Two, I mentioned Gordon McNeill-Wilkie and the cleansing of Ashintully Castle. Similarly, Bill
Caffrey’s involvement with Dunans Castle in Chapter One. More commonly, however, it is the Church that is called upon to expel demons. The New Testament refers to exorcisms in the context of
the miracles of Jesus Christ, but while Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Islamic and Protestant faiths all acknowledge the skills employed, I have generally found most members of the priesthood
extremely reluctant to commit themselves on the subject.

And if anything, the release of the 1973 Hollywood film
The Exorcist,
based on the novel by William Peter Blatty, made matters worse. In Germany, two priests were given suspended jail
sentences for performing the exorcism ritual sixty-seven times on a mentally ill sixteen-year-old girl. The scandal surrounding this was in 2005 the basis for yet another Hollywood blockbuster,
The Exorcism of Emily Rose
, and it was this that allegedly prompted the Catholic Church to introduce training procedures. As recently as 2007, Pope Benedict XVI issued instructions for
exorcism squads of trained priests to be set up to tackle a rise in Satanism.

While not prepared to be either named or cross-examined on the subject, a senior figure in the Church of Scotland reassures
me that although he has certainly encountered
some bizarre situations, most of the invocation work he has been called upon to perform is pretty mundane.

‘When it comes to disturbed human beings, psychiatrists and doctors usually know what they are doing,’ he said. ‘Only now and then do we come up against something genuinely
ugly. Mostly it’s folk in their own homes who feel threatened by poltergeists, or an oppressive atmosphere. A blessing usually does the trick. I’m not prepared to go into detail, but so
far I have never had to go back and repeat the ritual.’

A typical story is that of the Lumley family, who were filled with excitement at the prospect of moving into a converted farm steading. At least, that was the impression given
by Mike and Poppy to their friends, but their daughters, Mandy and Jennifer, were less enthused at the prospect.

Previously, they had occupied a three-bedroom tenement flat in the west end of Glasgow and now they were the proud occupants of a period conversion close to the Falls of Clyde in Lanarkshire. It
was what Mike and Poppy had always dreamed of, a step up the property ladder, but from fourteen-year-old Mandy, and Jennifer, aged sixteen, came mixed reactions.

While both girls warmed to the idea of a bigger house providing more space for them to escape from their parents, neither was exactly overwhelmed by the prospect of living out of town. Both were
enrolled at the same fee-paying school and the greater majority of their schoolfriends lived near it. No longer would they be able to casually meet up to go to the cinema after school hours, or
chill out at a favourite café at weekends. Added to which, there was the extra effort of a daily commute, although it only involved a half-hour car run. Fortunately, both father and mother
worked in close proximity to the school, and both drove.

So for them, at least, it was not considered a big issue. But for Mandy and Jennifer, the move involved a huge compromise in their accustomed lifestyle.

‘You’re taking us to Siberia,’ complained Jennifer once she had thought it through. The truth was that while she liked the idea of living in a posh house, she disliked the idea
of the country: endless fields full of smelly animals like cows and horses and, above all, the absence of human beings. Where were the shops and the fun places to hang out?

So to start off with, the Lumley family’s move to the Lanarkshire countryside was not without disharmony, commencing with Mandy and Jennifer quarrelling over the size of their bedrooms. As
the eldest, Jennifer demanded the one on the first level overlooking the driveway, the one her parents had designated as a guest room. Mandy wanted it too, but eventually accepted one with an
en-suite shower to the rear of the house, overlooking the river. Eventually, Mike and Poppy gave in to Jennifer, and she was allowed the room she wanted. Their own bedroom, with a small balcony
overlooking open fields, was on the far side of the steading, which meant both daughters could make as much noise as they wanted, within reason.

As he made his tour of inspection, Mike congratulated himself on his purchase. With only one previous owner since the conversion, the architectural and design finishes throughout were as good as
its gets. The kitchen range was state-of-the-art. There was double glazing and loft insulation. The levels had been re-timbered in polished pine. What more could you possibly ask for in terms of
blending the best of the old with the new?

Yet Mike still had an uneasy feeling that the asking price had been too cheap. This was several years before the credit crisis of 2008–10, and at a time when property prices were soaring
steadily. Although mortgaged up to the hilt, he had never in his wildest
dreams believed he would be able to afford such a property. Both he and his agent had been amazed when
the seller agreed to a figure well below the asking price. Apparently he was leaving the country and wanted a quick sale.

Poppy had been ecstatic when she’d heard the news. It was everything she had always wanted, a house with a garden in the country. ‘I’ve only ever had a window box
before,’ she confided to her jealous girlfriends at work.

But when the removal vans had finally come and gone, and the Lumleys were installed in their new home, the task of sorting everything out seemed colossal. Jennifer, for example, wanted broadband
for her computer; Mandy wanted Sky television. Poppy looked wistfully at her town wardrobe of smart office work-wear outfits, party frocks and designer shoes. ‘We really are living in the
country now,’ she sighed. ‘It’ll be Hunter wellies and moleskin breeks from now on.’

It took them a full week to get the household up and running. It was the school holidays so at least the girls were at home all day to help out, and Mike and Poppy had taken a week off. Although
Jennifer talked endlessly on her mobile phone and complained incessantly that she had better things to do, it all eventually fell into place. By the following weekend, a sense of normality had
returned to the family’s routine.

Normality of the sort that Jennifer accused Mandy of stealing her make-up and favourite T-shirt, an allegation which Mandy vehemently denied. The next day, there was a similar row. Mandy had
been in Jennifer’s room again, this time using her shampoo.

When Poppy went into Jennifer’s room in the afternoon to see for herself, she called out to Mike in concern. The girls had gone out for a walk and she led Mike directly over to
Jennifer’s dressing table.

‘Somebody’s been smoking in here,’ she said.

Sure enough a lingering pungent odour was immediately apparent.. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, neither of the girls smoke,’ said Mike. ‘You know
that.’

He himself had given up long before he had met Poppy, but he knew that her dislike of smoking stemmed from her father’s habit of forty cigarettes a day.

‘Well, how else do you explain the smell?’ she snapped, gesticulating as she did so. ‘This is all I need!’

When Jennifer returned to face a barrage of hostile questioning, she flared up in resentment. ‘You know I don’t smoke,’ she screamed at her parents. ‘It must have been
Mandy when she was going through my things!’

‘I’ve never been near your stupid things!’ shouted Mandy in response.

Their parents looked at each other helplessly. ‘We’ll leave it for now,’ said Mike, who hated any kind of row or confrontation.

All the same, when Jennifer set off to the village the following day, Poppy sneaked back into her room and once again, there was a lingering smell. ‘Do you know what?’ said Mike when
she summoned him. ‘That’s not cigarette smoke. That’s pipe tobacco.’

‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ said his wife. ‘Why would Jennifer smoke a pipe?’

The idea seemed so absurd that they both burst out laughing, which to some extent relieved the tension. But not for long. ‘Well, if Jennifer hasn’t started smoking a pipe, who
has?’ said Poppy, rounding on her husband.

‘You surely don’t think I . . .’

‘No, of course not, but somebody has definitely been smoking in this room,’ she said, throwing open the windows to let in the outside air. As she did so, she ran her finger along the
sill and lifted the tip to her nose. ‘I suppose we should be thankful that it’s not marijuana. We’ll just have to keep our eyes open.’

Although Jennifer was entering that appalling teenage phase of mandatory rebellion, she was an intelligent girl who, despite silly crushes on boys and hating to be told
what to do when she always knew better, genuinely loved her parents. As she lay in bed at night, a thousand fantasies passed through her thoughts, the majority involving Roy Spooner, a rising star
of the school’s football team. She had recently been to the cinema with him to see
Lord of the Rings
, but now that she had moved out of town she wondered if he would want to have
anything to do with her ever again. She closed her eyes trying to imagine him leaning over her to kiss her goodnight. When she opened them she thought that she could smell him, but then realised
that it was not Roy at all that stood before her. It was a horrid old man who smelled of tobacco smoke.

Jennifer screamed and, hurling herself out of bed, raced along the corridor to her parents’ bedroom. When finally they managed to make some sense of what she was telling them, both Mike
and Poppy went to investigate. The bedroom was empty, but the air was filled with the smell of stale tobacco smoke. ‘I just can’t understand it,’ said Mike, examining the
radiators and opening up the fitted wall cupboards. ‘It has to be coming from somewhere.’

Yet there was clearly nobody there. Poppy was all for calling the police, but Mike restrained her. ‘What on earth do we say to them? That there’s been a break-in when all of the
doors and windows are shut? Let’s leave it until the morning.’

For the remainder of that night Jennifer occupied the guest bedroom, and the next day moved her belongings to her new quarters. On his way to work Mike looked in on the nearest police station
and was seen by a lady officer who listened attentively to what he had to say.

‘What age did you say your daughter was?’ she asked.

‘I didn’t,’ he replied. ‘But she’s sixteen.’

‘I see,’ said the policewoman. ‘Has anything like this happened before?’

‘No, never.’

‘And you say that you only moved into the house ten days ago?’

‘Yes.’

The woman paused and put aside her pencil. ‘I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but there’s been a problem at this address before. I take it the previous owner didn’t
mention anything about it to you?’

Mike looked puzzled. ‘No. I never met him.’

The policewoman smiled and consulted the contents of a file she had withdrawn from a filing cabinet. ‘It appears that there have been several previous incidents reported. All of them of
– er – should I say, a supernatural nature.’

‘What are you saying?’ said Mike astonished. ‘That the steading is haunted?’

The policewoman looked at him sympathetically. ‘It would appear so,’ she said.

‘Don’t tell me you believe in all that stuff?’ said Mike.

‘We come across all sorts of strange goings-on in our work,’ she replied with stoicism.

Having arranged that somebody from the station would pay them a visit in the early evening, Mike drove to work where he telephoned Poppy to report on what had taken place. As he had expected,
the pitch of her voice rose in irritation. ‘Is that the best they can do?’ she responded angrily.