Jackie Loxham

When I first arrived at Dragondah Hall, I don't mind telling you I absolutely hated it. It was far too old and far too big and far too creepy. It didn't have telephones, it didn't have proper toilets, it didn't have a washing machine and it didn't have any sport on the telly. But what it did have was lots of dusty antiques, ugly gargoyles and dangly-legged spiders. The place was a total nightmare and the complete opposite of the cosy little house in London where I'd grown up.

Now though I love my new home and feel very privileged to have inherited it from Mrs Crow. Not because of the woods and the fields and the wild seas right on my doorstep. ​No, it’s because I've learnt that old houses have something new houses don’t. And I’m not talking about a musty smell! No, an old house like Dragondah Hall has a story to tell and if you’re very, very lucky (like me) it also has a secret. A secret so BIG you’ll struggle to believe it!