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Following our investigation of the killing fields of Jack the Ripper, we travelled north and based ourselves at a hotel in Leyland, which is a suburb of the old Lancashire town of Preston.

The Euxton Mills Hotel is a 300-year-old establishment which was once a coaching house which accommodated travellers on their journeys from Scotland and the north of England to more southern areas. The manager, Keith Burgess, had kindly agreed to allow the ISPR team to conduct an investigation of the premises. Although Mr Burgess was sceptical of mediumistic abilities, he was interested to see whether the ISPR team could shed any light on the strange goings-on experienced by members of his staff.

Immediately I walked into the lounge area I was aware of a spirit man standing in the centre of the room. Wearing a dark cloak and stovepipe hat, he had the appearance of a Victorian gentleman. He said nothing but as he gently faded from my view Sam told me that his name was George Chapman and he had frequently visited the hostelry and enjoyed his stays there. He was a jovial soul who enjoyed the company of women and had a tactile nature. Indeed, to this day, employees of the hotel talk of being touched by an unseen person.

As the spirit form of George Chapman disappeared, Linda, Peter and I were simultaneously drawn to the washroom area at the rear of the lounge and in particular to the ladies’ toilets. As I entered the toilet area I had the feeling that things were not quite as they should be. It was a ladies’ toilet but I felt a distinctly male influence and that George would have visited these facilities when he arrived at the hotel in his earthly life.

At that moment, the temperature began to drop dramatically and a lady in a long Victorian-style dress and hat walked past and through us and exited through the door into the lounge. She seemed intent on what she was doing and appeared to be keeping a very tight hold of a small bag. I was not given her name nor was I told the reason for her continuing to visit the hotel, but it was confirmed by the staff that a ‘grey lady’ is often seen in the ladies’ toilet area.

Our investigation continued in the cellars. I was immediately aware of a male presence and knew that the male in question was not the jovial George Chapman. This was a different personality—not angry, but certainly mischievous.

‘You have problems down here,’ I said to Keith. ‘In particular I feel you have problems with the beer lines. There’s spiritual interference here. A man comes down and plays with the lines and I feel you could have experienced the gas in the kegs pushing back.’

Keith laughingly confirmed that on many occasions he had experienced just that and had been forced to go up and change his shirt because of the soaking he had received.

‘Well, the next time it happens, tell Tom to stop it,’ I advised.

I had the distinct impression that Tom had at one time worked at the public house and was still jealously guarding what he considered to be his domain.