Weird happenings at Leicester vicarage.
Nocturnal incidents in St Margaret’s Vicarage, Church-gate, Leicester, lead the Vicar and his wife to suggest that their home is haunted. They certainly accept the theory that “a mischief-making poltergeist” is at work – an unseen force which “delights in causing the maximum vexation.” The spectre is stated to have been seen on several occasions by the maid in the Vicarage, the Verger and a former Curate.
In an interview with a “Leicester Mercury” reporter the vicar the Rev. Eric N. Ducker, and Mrs Ducker, gave the story of their experiences at the Vicarage. They declared that: The Vicarage is haunted by the ghost of a “tall cloaked man.” That footsteps are heard almost nightly in the corridors of the rambling old building. Lights are switched on and off, and lights, other than those installed in the Vicarage, appear like magic. Articles of domestic use vanish into thin air. Plant-pots on stands are removed mysteriously, and in odd cases thrown across the room and broken; and Doors left locked and barred at night have been found open the following morning.
Mr Ducker has lived at the Vicarage since 1938. His wife is a daughter of Canon F.R.C. Payne, a former Vicar of St. Margaret’s, and now Rector of Market Bosworth. “It is all incredibly true,” Mr Ducker said. “We have almost come to look on the ghost as a member of the family.” The vicar revealed that his maid – who comes from Long Eaton – had actually seen an apparition outside her bedroom door on several occasions. It was alsways the same spectre – a tall, draped form.
The verger, Mr Ernest Morris, of 24, Coventry-street, Leicester, has also encountered the “ghost.” Mr Ducker said: “Mr Morris had the shock of his life when he was in a downstairs room firewatching before the end of the war. He was awakened by something and then saw the St Margaret’s ghost which appeared to lean over him. He wasn’t the only one who underwent this thrill – Mr Brewin, my former Curate, had the same experience repeatedly and refused to enter this room.”
The Vicar invited a “Leicester Mercury” reporter and a photographer to inspect the room – situated in the middle of the Vicarage on the ground floor – the oldest portion of the building. Only church stores – leaflets and books – are there. Half a dozen chairs in a row led the Vicar to remark that very occasional Church sub-committees are held in the room which leads into the main hall. “Aren’t your parishioners nervous about meeting there?” he was asked. “Well, they haven’t been told that we regard it as the ghost’s H.Q – the focal point of these supernatural happenings,” he replied.
Mr Ducker said that strange noises emanated from this empty room “as if some-one was throwing things about.” A “rushing wind” phenomenon had occurred while Mr Morris was inside. He had described it “like a gale.” “One night Mrs Ducker and myself were awakened by a very loud ‘pop’ – just as if someone had pulled the cork from a gigantic bottle,” continued the vicar. “In this case the sound lingered like the note from a gong.”
The “measured tread” of the “ghost” was heard upstairs and down. It had a kind of “nightly patrol.” On an earlier occasion – before the maid at the vicarage had been “introduced” to the “ghost” – she picked up a torch, left her bedroom and gave the burglar alarm.
Mrs Ducker said: “We have got used to it all by now. On a number of occasions our front door and side entrance leading through the garden into the graveyard have been flung open, although we have kept them locked. It is annoying for us to miss little articles of household use, however. For instance, my best pair of scissors disappeared and then my young daughter, Alice, lost her red gloves recently. They were a Christmas present. These are only a few of the things which have been removed – the poltergeist has taken a fancy to cutlery. I know you will find it almost beyond belief – but some time ago one of my best spoons disappeared from its box. This week it was replaced in a tarnished state. I don’t know what is going to vanish next. We frequently hear strange noises in the middle of the night and although there is a connecting door between our bedroom and an empty room from which the footsteps are often heard we don’t bother to get up and investigate. We know it’s just the ghost.”
The room in question has been used by fire-watchers during the war and in the “invasion scare” days was the H.Q. of police who were to supervise the tolling of the church bells in the event of enemy landings. The police watchers slept there.
Leicester Daily Mercury, 14th February 1946.