Guest Author Cheryl Headford
When I was about ten years old, my niece used to stay with me. She was three years younger and very afraid of the dark. My mother wasn’t big on ‘pandering to irrational fears’, so she wouldn’t let us have the light on.
My niece was terribly afraid of ghosts. It’s not unsurprising, given we lived in Cemetery Road and spent a lot of time playing in the graveyard. Nor was it unfounded.
Anyway, on the wall of the room we stayed in, was a plate. It was a 3D plaster wall plate, something like the one on the left.
Truthfully, it was bloody awful but my mother loved it.
Lying together, in my mother’s bed, I made up stories about a ghost called George, who got up to all kinds of humorous adventures. I don’t know if it took away her fear of the dark completely, but she always went to sleep with a smile on her face when she stayed with me. I got so bored with George by the end!
As well as my niece, my cousin who is in between the two of us in age, …