T'was the Investigation Before Christmas

 “Dead to begin with.” The best opening line in any story (in this investigator’s opinion) and the words floating around my brain to drown out the bell-spangled Christmas music coming from my radio. My destination was Maidstone, more specifically the Elizabethan manor house that was home to the Maidstone Museum.

Credit: SJP

As the multicoloured twinkling lights adorning the houses were replaced by the vivid red brake lights of vehicles I found myself on the A229, more famously known as Blue Bell Hill, serving as the County Town’s gatekeeper from Medway. My descent reminded me of the most famous of all of Kent’s hauntings a roadside spectre with over 50 sighting reports has several names, including the Phantom Bride or the Ghost Hitchhiker, but she (being dead to begin with) is known as the Ghost of Blue Bell Hill.

Legend has it that Suzanne Browne was travelling with two friends when her vehicle was involved in a collision near a bridge over Old Chatham Road. This crash interfered with her ability to get married the following day (20^th November 1965) by tragically ending her short 22 years of life.

The first report occurred 4 years later where 2 pedestrians were seen walking towards the witness, who was on his way home to Rochester, only to suddenly disappear. The same witness reported seeing the pedestrians again, only for a car to drive straight through them.

The haunting had escalated by 1971 when a girl in her 20’s appeared in front of James Skene’s vehicle. James gave her a lift to Chatham but as she alighted on arrival, she simply vanished. Since then continued reports of a young female, either flagging down a lift or locking eyes with drivers before evaporating in front of them have been reported.

Such is the reputation of this road one could be forgiven for falling under the spell of priming, where the experiencee has prior knowledge of a place and that expectation of seeing the paranormal overrides that person’s ability for logical thought – if you expect to see a ghost, you will see a ghost (dear reader – Marley had not appeared to me yet).

Such was the advert for tonight’s encounter. Once again the challenge “Are you brave enough?” was laid down by Ghost Hunter Tours who were hosting a second night (the first one sold out and was very active by all accounts) at Maidstone Museum. The poetic, gothic style advert promising gruesome, whispered secrets with the air resonating with the cries of anguished souls. Was I primed? Probably not – but would that affect the other guests?

Accounts of paranormal activity at the museum include temperature changes, ominous feelings from death masks, depressed feelings from prints, a small coin being repeatedly thrown at an employee’s head, footsteps and an apparition seen on CCTV when staff were locking up.

I try very hard not to look into the history of the buildings or people prior to an investigation. This is to try and avoid any self-priming and my visit to Maidstone Museum was no exception. The only things I knew about the space before hand was that they had dinosaurs and an Egyptian mummy (which would not be part of any experiments during the evening).

Credit: SJP

My prior knowledge was such that I expected the entrance to be through the Elizabethan doors, flanked by stone lions (I was not the only one) but soon realised access was granted through the “Goldibox” entrance at the side.

As we waited for the GHT crew to receive us, a disorderly queue (more a gathering) formed at the correct door. Conversation was soon entered, and like our Victorian ancestors we were soon sharing our own ghost stories from previous investigations. A couple I was talking to were telling me of the strange happenings at the home, which would ebb and flow over the years – including noises, a chair falling over and the repeated throwing of a hoover (if you read this I would be very interested in seeing what I can find out), which could not simply be explained as being a piece of undigested beef. Equipment was discussed and soon the Ghost Tube SLS app was downloaded on a phone. As we were discussing infrasound and proximity to train tracks, entry was permitted with the task of finding your name and remembering your team number (Team 2).

Credit: SJP

Remember the promise from the advert? “Maidstone Museum’s insatiable hunger for souls shows no mercy” appeared very much removed from the briefing we received as we were informed that we were not expecting any fire evacuations during our experience. The elf and safety (Christmas pun very much intended) out of the way, the memory game was played (at least I could remember that I was in team 2), and the big group divided off for our first session of the night.

Our first location was the Curator’s office on the ground floor furnished with desk, chairs and a Christmas tree (it was December so probably allowed). The walls were covered in books and high windows let in the external light (and sounds of the intoxicated) into this large space.

Encouraged to get a feel for the room as the usual bits of equipment were dotted about, we then formed a circle holding hands whilst the crew took us through a white light protection ritual and then we started our investigation.

The first thing I noticed was the decidedly missing fizz of anticipation. Had the reality of being in this space, and the laughter directed at supposed frauds during the briefing evaporated the hunger of the quest; or was it that my group was just dismissive of festive spirits?

The first sign of activity was from the sudden brightening of the first green LED of an EMF meter and then the light blinked off and back on again. The device, tried and tested over many investigations (with box fresh batteries came the assurance) was behaving in a way that no-one had witnessed, not even the crew. As they led the calling out the meter flashed to amber in response, and then a cat ball went off – its blue/red/yellow lights illuminated the corner of the room. Had Jacob Marley entered the building with a precursor of what was instore for us? Time would tell.

Shutting my eyes for a brief moment in an effort to ground myself I felt the crew member to my right lurch forward as if he had been forcefully pushed. Now the sceptic would say the company would want this to happen, but I honestly believe there would be no foul play from any of the crew we had that night. The push happened again, affecting him to the point where he left the circle to recover.

The activity continued with alternate lights coming from the EMF and the cat balls. A green light in the top left corner of the room then started to flash. I joined in the calling out, trying to illicit a response from whoever was with us.

Change of equipment was suggested and we broke the circle. A spirit board was opened with several sitters (including myself) with their finger atop the glass. After a silence that seem to go on for hours I felt compelled to get this glass moving and was soon curating the questions to elicit some form of response.

We established a spirt call Leo N, who was 57 years old and born in 1827. A Steven was mentioned and some sort of trouble that Leo did not want to divulge. When asked who Steven was the glass slid around the board spelling out K-O-Z-O, and I expected the last two letters to repeat themselves.

A ghost of Christmas past? Zozo or the ‘spirit board demon’ was first reported after the possession of a young French girl in 1818. A cruel, sadistic entity that first pretends to be helpful and friendly before demonstrating its true colours. It preys on the fears and insecurities of its victims causing negative feelings that can build to depression, draining emotions or inducing feelings of paranoia. Anecdotally this malevolent spirit was said to be the possessing force of Roland Doe, whose exorcism in 1951 was the inspiration for The Exorcist. Had we found Captain Howdy?

Not hearing the ominous strains of Tubular Bells or witnessing shapes darting in the shadows, the logical thought was that one of the sitters was manipulating the glass, or that Leo simply could not spell cousin. The consensus was that Steven was a cousin and that ended the activity on the board, however whoever the spirit was they were still enjoying orchestrating the light show from the devices around the room.

After we had closed down the board and retrieved the equipment we were off to the second room of this session. In my notes I wrote Cannon Room, but in fact this is the Queen’s Own Royal West Kent Regiment Museum. As we were leaving the Curator’s office I bumped into a member of staff and asked about the green flashing light in the corner. She confirmed it was a PIR sensor for the security system “and it does that” (so that theory was debunked).

Credit: SJP

The room felt very flat, and as we set up a table-tipping experiment I heard the distinctive sound of a rem-pod, thinking at least another group was at least getting some activity it spurred me on. An EMF had been placed by a drum on the floor and was slowly flickering (a present ghost or too close to an electricity cable?) and another meter was placed on the table, along with a set of lieutenant stripes and several fingers (they were still attached to the members of the group). The calling out was by the same voices, asking, urging and then pleading for some sign of activity.

Wrong declared the Chattergeist as we asked if the stripes showed his rank. Sergeant was offered as an alternative and the EMF flashed in response. We challenged this Sergeant to move the table and then ordered movement, which remained static as if to attention for the whole time and after a few more amber flashes from the EMF it was time to pack up and ship out for a short break.

Opting for a bottle of water, and pretty much downing it, I realised how much talking I had been doing during the first session. I overheard other groups discussing their findings, stick figures from an app, several knocks and the appearance of an African male’s face during a scrying session were all very interesting – but did not want to contaminate my thoughts so did not pry any further.

“Team 2” came the call to arms and with a change of guard saw us passing by our previously investigated rooms into the local history collection. Like Scrooge rationing the fuel for the fire, the rooms felt as cold and flat as his office, but as we moved into the glass fronted displays of the costume collection an EMF activation appeared to indicate this was the place to start.

The crew set up cat balls and a motion activated music box. The idea being that if anything tripped the sensor the ominous plink-plonk of the mechanical music box would alert investigators. Traps deployed we formed a circle and asked if any spirits present would make themselves known. The music box started up, and after a bit of debunking it was repositioned. Bangs on the glass cabinets came next, one to my right, then to my left and then the haunting sounds from the music box – this time set off by the invisible as the sound of a rem-pod echoed along the corridors.

I was drawn to the metal staircase, which I was informed was off limits, which led to the dinosaur exhibit. It felt as though something was watching from above. A spirit communicator app produced the words Jennifer, Handmaid, Murdered, Holiday and it was decided to try an Estes Method experiment to establish further details. (For more on the Estes Method see Are You Brave Enough?).

The first sitter had donned the blindfold and headphones, but appeared overwhelmed by the amount of white noise the spirit box app produced and was soon handing the equipment over to myself. As I sat there, the buzzing white noise in my ears in the darkness of the hoodwink I called out what I heard. Suddenly I heard the very clear words, Gregory, December as if they were produced by a Necrophone type app. Removing the kit I asked if the phone was running something else and was told that it was only the spirit box that was running. Diving back under into sensory deprivation I was greeted with sounds of a disturbance between a male and female. Words were indistinguishable but clearly there was some desperate fight going on in my ears. Was this Gregory and Jennifer? Was this the final moments of the holidaying housemaid? I received no confirmation. The sound subsiding into the pulsating changes between frequencies, there was no further communication.

Handing back the headphones Group 2 divided, with half remaining with the headless mannequins and myself and a few others seeking the spirits elsewhere in the space. Settling for another attempt at table tipping we set up in the Tudor Great Hall. A cat ball was placed on the long table as we gathered around a much smaller one each placing a finger on its top.

Taking the lead I asked the spirits to provide some proof of their presence to my sceptical companions. Asking for the table to be moved, to tip up on two of its legs, to be shoved towards one of them. I was met with the feeling of vibration but nothing more dramatic than that.

Credit: SJP

Our smaller group, having lost interest in the table descended into talk of other haunted places. The room feeling a quiet as the grave, until the tell-tale light of the cat ball cut short the conversation. Floorboards were tested, even though none of us had moved, to ensure it wasn’t a false reading and we horse-shoes around the table. The ball extinguished and when asked illuminated again. Obviously the spirits were feeling left out of our conversation. A heard of elephants appeared to be in the room above us, crashing through the stillness of the wood-panelled hall which signified a break before our final session.

A new session, new crew, same Group 2 but this time we headed upstairs. As my foot landed on the top step I felt an immediate pain in my right knee, the Touch produced Thigh, Problems. The pain was constant, burning and unrelenting as we got our bearings over the several galleries that made up this space.

We were told that before the investigation began Museum Staff had asked the crew to go with them as a previously shut door had been opened and a light turned on. The crew made their way through 5 locked security doors where the light was turned off and all doors closed before they returned. As we stood on the threshold between Archaeology and Natural History it was noticed that the light was turned back on, and the door was once again open.

This being a good spot as any, it was decided to try some glass work. Using the same principles as a spirit board, glass work uses an upturned glass on top of a table with predefined answers on it, such as yes, no, good, evil. The theory is that spirits will move the glass to answer the questions posed by the sitter.

Contact made, the glass began sliding around the tabletop, answering the vague opening questions of the session. “Do you feel an affinity to anyone around the board?” came the question, the glass gliding across the surface towards me. Its difficult using predefined answers to get a fully rounded picture of the communicator, but this entity said it was something I had met before. Discounting departed family or deceased friends, I listed the locations that I had previously visited with all the answers being in the negative. Had I met all of my 4 Christmas Ghosts? Marley and Past in the Curators Office, Present in the Tudor Hall? Was this the future one? Was this from a location yet to come? It offers the question whether spirits have the same concept of time as the living. I asked if this spirit had a personal message for me, ‘Yes’ came the reply. This made me feel uncomfortable as I attend these events to uncover the stories of those attached to the location. Thanking the spirit I asked for them to step back and if possible to give me their message another time in another way.

The glass, resolute in the centre of the table, we started talking amongst ourselves and I mentioned that the pain in my knee was still there. I was told that on the previous groups someone else had said that they had a pain in their right knee and in another a female became distressed when she felt something grab her thigh. Sharing the Chattergeist’s words a murmur of interest spread around the circle, an interest shared by an invisible force as the glass slid ‘maybe’.

Contact reinitiated we asked questions to help tell their story, “Can you show us?” I asked, ‘yes’ came the reply. Breaking out the dowsing rods (yes was crossed; no – open) I asked if the spirit could show me something they had connection to. The rods directed me right, into the natural history section talking me on a tour of all of the displays before pointing me in the direction of a badger. I asked if the phantom would show itself to me if I took a picture, rods crossed – pictures taken, and on review I could not see any apparition.

Credit: SJP

The rods then took me back to the table and beyond before ending pointing at a set of Roman coins. As I asked if it was the coins, the pain in my knee suddenly vanished and I received nothing further from the dowsing rods.

Returning to the table, after others had been directed to the badger, further questions were asked with an identity of Farmer Lamb being provided. Later attempts at research could not locate a Lamb association, nor could any of the names or events from any of the sessions be located.  

After packing up, I spent some time talking with our hosts who were disappointed that the evening had not been as eventful as their previous night. I said that I had a great time and had really enjoyed working with the board in the Curator’s office as it was the first time that I had managed to get names and dates through. I felt really pleased when I was told that my work in the first session was really good and exhilarated when I was told that I would made a great addition to their crew. My observation was that any spirits seemed to be watching and waiting and if I were to investigate again it would be interesting to set up some locked off trigger objects to see if not paying them any attention would provide any results, like the cat ball on the great hall’s table.

Before saying goodbye I did ask if any of the other groups had been using Rem-Pods during the evening, to which I was told that they hadn’t, which made me question the frequent, distinctive sound the devices make that I heard all evening. Echoes of past investigations, or investigations yet to come – we can but hope.