The eld paths hud formed the infrastructure ae the wooded acres ae ground. It hud aw centred around a big Georgian mansion – a real wan, rather than our namesake. A hud dreamt wit this big hoose wid huv looked like. Ma gran’s grandmother wis a domestic servant there, but both took its secrets tae the grave wae them. There is nae picture or memory that survives. The hoose itself is a ghost that haunts the woods. If yi look closely, there’s still clues tae its existence. There’s still garderers’ cottages, noo modern bungalows, dotted around the edges ae the estate. Still eld stone paths almost swallowed by the convergin weeds n reed grass, which survive cos ae the burn that trickles through the far side ae the field. Bushes n trees huv claimed back a set ae great stone pillars which must huv formed a gate. Yi wouldnae even notice them noo, unless yi awready knew they wur there.

Some ae the stories survived, mind you. The oldest ae the gardeners’ cottages wis always said tae be haunted. Ma maw hud spoken wae wan ae the owners, who said the rumours ae the Grey Lady ir fact, not fiction. Perhaps testament tae the fact, nobody ever stayed long in that hoose. This is the true ghost story that inspired the urban legend ae the statue in the cemetery. Ma gran hud spoken aboot the ghost n a great hoose wae kept gardens, trees n paths through the woods. Noo, yi couldnae fit two abreast on the eld camouflaged paths. Maybe when we’re aw gone there wid be nae record ae the place n the woods wid huv their revenge n the natural equilibrium wid return. Maybe even the Grey Lady wid finally gee up the ghost n let the new buyers huv their peace.

A Taylor Wimpey estate replaced the great manor. Three streets ae red-brick semis n white rough-casted detached hooses. The place we know as ‘the Mansion’ is the only real survivin part ae that original estate – the stables n farmhoose. Then, it wid huv been just servants’ quarters n a workin farm. The cobblestones, the eld barn, the farmhoose wae the arch on the left side leadin tae the room wae nae window n the stable blocks. The modern owners left in a hurry, leavin aw their sofas and the electricity and water runnin. That’s another mystery ae the place. They wur likely just normal people who lived their lives here in peace, but their hasty departure fed our imaginations n urban legends fur years tae come. Maybe they’ll come back wan day, the first indication that the night didnae swallow them whole.

Maws n das in the street received plannin permission letters aboot the flats being built behind the pre-existing estate. The new lords ae this mansion, our elder wans, knew that their new-found castle could only ever be a temporary sanctuary. The place hud been top secret at first. They decided tae keep it safe n hidden, knowin full well that any den that wis made in the woods wid always be found eventually n looted by rival or younger youths. Their prediction ae invaders who wid likely plunder n trash it wis bang on. As wae any other secret here, it didnae last long.