Why was the17th century spirit Lady in The Chequers Pub, Norfolk on Friday 13th?

22 07 2012

It happened to be Friday the 13th July when our landlady said we might be lucky to get a meal if we arrived at the 400 year old Chequers Inn – a short stroll from The Thatched House in Norfolk  – at 6.30 pm and smiled nicely at the girls behind the bar, and it worked!  Nobody had yet arrived to fill the 30 or so seats one side of the heavily beamed pub and we were  grateful to be shown to a small 2-seater table, even though it was end-on to the bar.  Having ordered a meal, Mike supping a pint of the delicious house ale, we looked forward to an evening of togetherness, celebrating our 33rd wedding anniversary.

(What was it I said about ‘no body’?) Determined as I was to leave my work at home, just for the weekend, I tried not to notice the pale face, round red cheeks and black and white stripes of a ghostly figure determined to invade our romantic space.  ‘I think it’s a clown?‘ I frowned at Michael, telling the lost soul behind the bar that I would help him later….However, more details morphed into a well-to-do Lady of an earlier century, with rosebud cheeks, a powdered wig, and a voloptuous stripey dress.  She was understandably inquisitive when she realised that I could see her, even reluctantly, and to draw attention to herself even more she walked right through me from the bar  – a strange sensation, rather like silvery cobwebs sliding through my energy field….not the cold shiver one might expect. 

Suddenly another lost spirit dashed through the wall at the front of the pub, dragging a woman spirit behind him…and rather amusingly, clutching a ‘gert great marra’ (marrow) under his arm, which was obviously too precious to leave behind!  What is remarkable is the lost ones’ ability to know where to get help.  Among the general dissaray there was a man with a long grey moustache dressed in tweed plus-fours – Michael said they are worn for shooting.

My Lady seemed so well-to-do compared with the poor country folk. Now hovering to my left, she thrust a drawstring purse into my face and pulled out a large gold coin: ‘She’s trying to bribe me!‘ I said to Michael, telling her that I promised to help her later on, and would she just step back for a moment, ‘PLEASE!’  Suddenly all became clearer as her last moments flashed before my eyes: she had been shot in her left shoulder by a highwayman on the road to Watton, who had robbed her!  Having made her story known, she admired my red painted fingernails (!!) and stepped back, taking it upon herself to keep the other little lost spirit children(playing some sort of game on the floor with stones) away from our table as we finished our meal.  Later, I caught a glimpse of her with an ‘urchin’ over her knee, smacking his bare backside, after he tried to snatch the remains of Michael’s steak from his plate!

Chequers Inn

Chequers Inn

When Becky arrived with a smile to clear our plates away, I commented on how empty the place was (on the physical plane at least!) and she said it was most unusual as Friday was normally their busiest day!  I couldn’t resist asking whether anyone had ever seen any ghosts there and to my surprise, instead of the usual ‘don’t go there: it’s too scarey’ response she told us of a soldier in uniform that had been seen at the door and a drinker who was reluctant to leave when the Landlord locked up one night, who disappeared into thin air.  After I told her a little about myself she was keen to buy a copy of Never Lose Heart and asked me to leave it behind the bar to collect when she was next on duty, bless her! She also told me of the ghost of a man in her family home that both she and her little sister often sensed walking up beside their beds (I heard ‘ammonia’ from spirit) and how her mother had once chastised her father for leaving his working clothes in their bedroom when she awoke one night (they are pig farmers) – but the ‘pig’ smell just de-materialised again. As Becky spoke these words I asked spirit above for something tangible to give her (having promised her I would look into it and let her know the outcome) and I was shown a sweet being unwrapped….‘It’s a Werthers’ I said to her and, before I could ask whether that meant anything to her, her eyes welled up with joyful emotion. ‘It’s my grandfather!’ she cried, and handing her the table napkin I apologised if I had upset her, but he was sending his love down to her….At which stage I experienced a whoosh of white light from head to toe, which is spirit’s way of affirming a fact….  ‘That’s wonderful’, she said, ‘he always had Werthers on him, always!’ She and her sister had memories of his tall desk with a big bowl of the sweets on top, and he would always offer them one.

The Thatched House

The Thatched House

That night, back at our b&b, I released many lost souls, including my Lady from the 17th Century, whose name was Maeve.  She was greeted warmly by Spirit, who said she was ‘courageous’ in standing up to the highwayman – as well as attracting me to the plight of what turned out to be many more lost souls in the pub and area.  Of the spirit children, one had been teething at the time of her death, another grew up to be a soldier and fought in Normandy (Perhaps the  soldier Becky had mentioned, visiting his old home, where 3 houses had been before the newest part of the pub in which we sat had been built.)  A third child died of tuberculosis (Paterson) and a fourth said, sadly, that he was ‘William’s son…Dug my grave’ … There was a ‘simpleton, who died in a ditch’ and an ‘Anthony (Anton) Fraser, 2nd Rifles/Dragoon Guards…Splattered across Agincourt …They rode roughshod all over me!..Campaign…Get my rifle  Get my rifle!’  (As with many trapped spirits, he was perpetually reliving his last moments.)  A female relative called him from the other side and he cried in amazement…‘She comes!  A lamp! She leadeth me through Still waters…’“Is there amyone else who needs help?” I asked and I heard the name ‘Walter’.  “Walter?  Oh yes!…. ‘Help William’ he reminded me, following on from my conversation with Becky earlier and the lost soul who wandered their home.  I hooked on to William’s spirit with my dowser and found myself conversing with him: ‘How do?‘ he asked politely. ‘G’na help me?‘ In a second or so this pig man, smelling of ammonia, was safely reunited with Walter (an uncle in Becky’s family?) and, comically, 3 little pigs followed on his tail, two of which were ‘Fatima’ and ‘Ermantrude’!  There were no more spirits in her home but I was shown a heron (or was it a crane?) taking off, perhaps of some significance to her or her family?  I filled with white light and scanned both The Chequers Pub and her home and all was at peace once more.  However, my belly was very cold, so I scanned myself and found that 4 more had jumped into my own energy field: a child in a cot, another in calipers, an elderly woman with missing teeth and a ‘drummer boy from Aukland’.  Despite sleeping like a log in our voluptuous brass bed, I was awoken twice more before dawn to help late-comers who poured from the local area, Friday the 13th obviously being their lucky day too! 

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