I’ve never ruled out the possibility that ghosts exist. I’m pretty convinced I saw one once in Edinburgh, standing under a lantern in a Georgian mews. She – it was a woman, wearing a long dress – stood there for a while before floating up into the night.
I grabbed the two friends I was with and pointed manically down the street but they hadn’t seen anything. So there’s a chance that it was a figment of my imagination – which helped me to sleep that night.
That was in my early twenties and I hadn’t seen anything supernatural since. Then, one night at my parents’ house in Devon, the first time we’d ever brought our new baby to stay there, I woke up with a start in the middle of the night to see the figure of a child standing by the bed. I think it was a boy although I can’t be sure.
Given my husband and I were in the throws of new baby sleep deprivation, I would have written it off as one of those illusions you see at night when you’re really tired. You know the kind when you blink a few times and the figure is gone? Or turns into your dressing gown, hanging on the back of the door?
But this child wasn’t going and now my husband was awake, staring at him too. “Do you see that?” he whispered.
I was terrified. The fact that we could both see it surely meant it was really there? My husband turned on the light and the child vanished. We lay there for a long time with the light on, trying to come up with a logical explanation as to why our minds both played the same trick on us. But we couldn’t.
We’ve never been visited by the child again but we’ve talked about about the incident a lot since then… sometimes writing it off as combined paranoia.
And sometimes wondering if there might just be another little person living in our house.