Shadows, oppressive and cold, hung over the large estate of Mr Willard Perkins. Mr Perkins, a cold and shadowy figure himself, was used to them and indeed enjoyed them very much. He didn’t like people and seeing as his estate, The Wildemere Estate, was surrounded by a large imposing fence with spikes at the top, he didn’t get many visitors. 

The front gate, a large brass contraption with winged brass demons lurking on every available surface, was Mr Perkins’ pride and joy. Children of the nearby Little Wilbury village were always curious as to who lived in the large estate, for Mr Perkins never went out during the day time. The grown-ups, especially the elderly, of Little Wilbury encouraged the children strongly to stay away from that dreadful Wildemere Estate. They said it was haunted by the Devil himself. 

Mr Perkins always chuckled sinisterly whenever he thought of that little tale. If they only knew the truth. 

That night Mr Perkins had a problem; some irritating pesky children had found their way into the grounds. He sent Harald, his trusty butler and only employee, to sort them out. The children never again left the grounds. 

The rotting bodies of Mr Perkins and Harald were found twelve days later hanging from a large yew tree in the grounds right over the lake. Their remains were buried at the base of the same tree two days later. 

The entire estate was said to be haunted by the ghosts of the children, Perkins and indeed most sightings were of Harald the butler. A few attempts were made by the county to sell the estate or level the house but odd things seemed to happen to the people and machines that tried that. One entire team of engineers went missing during the summer of 1934 never to be seen again. To this day the people of Little Wilbury avoid the place whenever they can. 

  “Come on Eve! Get in the car already! We’re going to be late,” Andrea Hallows said to her eighteen year old slightly estranged daughter. 

  “Yeah yeah hold your friggin horses! I’m just trying to take my luggage down the stairs. By the way thanks for the help dickwad,” Eve grumbled to her older brother Charlie. 

 Charlie, who, like Eve, had long jet black hair, was sitting comfortably on the front steps. 

“Oh come on Eve we’d like to get there before Christmas,” a grinning Mr Anthony Hallows said as his youngest finally managed to get her suitcase into the car.

“Why are we moving again?” Eve growled at her father. She hadn’t wanted to move. Moving meant having to make new friends, go to a new school and basically being miserable for the first year that you lived there. If you lived there that long. 

  “You know perfectly well that your father and I have bought the Wildemere Estate and that we’re going to convert it into a hotel,” her mother said huffily.

It was this sort of attitude that made Eve dislike her mother most of the time. Andrea Hallows was not her biological mother but Eve considered her her mother anyway. Eve’s biological mother had died when Eve was born and her father had married Andrea about seven months later. Eve couldn’t see why these days. 

With the luggage in the car, Andrea behind the wheel, Charlie getting in his own little red sports car, and Mr Hallows