He went on to easily make his way into the neighbours’
house, where he proceeded to terrorise the poor woman and
her infant son. Although unharmed, they were bailed up for
several minutes until the police arrived, and were understand-
ably shaken.
Reflecting on these events now, Tracey recalls the whole
episode with positivity. Although it was distressing at the time, it was heartening to think that a spirit had been trying to forewarn her family and protect them from potential tragedy.
Given his nakedness, one can only assume that the intruder
was mentally unbalanced. Who knows what tragedy could
have unfolded had the police not come? The brand-new door
chain had not only prevented the man from getting in, but it
had given the family time to summon the police and also save
the neighbours.
Ghostly Guardians 201
“We do indeed have spirits watching out for us,” Tracey
smiled. “Sometimes we just need to be reminded! Your book
has given me a gentle poke to start looking for them again …”
I agree wholeheartedly. Embracing the presence of spir-
its is seldom less than awe-inspiring; it’s a life-changing and precious gift. And even in those times when the frightening
seems to overshadow the wonderful; it’s wise to sit back and
take stock of the situation from another perspective. Is some-
one really trying to frighten you? Or are they just trying to get your attention?
In Tracey’s case, she feels it is more than coincidental that
her beloved grandfather passed away not long before her fam-
ily moved into their new home.
Looking back now, Tracey tells me she doesn’t think that
the Woodridge house was haunted. Although the energy
within its walls was hard to ignore, it never felt oppressive or negative. Rather than housing ghosts from its past, Tracey suspects that they may have brought a spirit of their own; that of her much-loved grandfather.
“I truly believe it was my Poppa just looking out for his
girls … me, my sis, Mum and of course his wife, my Nanna!”
Interestingly enough, Tracey heard no further disem-
bodied footsteps or clattering chains after the night in ques-
tion. Hardly surprising really, as the spirit’s mission had been accomplished. A spirit who I suspect was indeed Tracey’s
grandfather, continuing to keep a watchful eye on his beloved
girls.
chapter twenty-three
M a r n i e
When I discovered that my next patient was ninety five years
old, I expected a doddery old woman to come shuffling
through the door. The reality couldn’t have been more differ-
ent. Although a little hard of hearing, Marnie was as lucid as someone half her age. She was present and engaging, with a
healthy dose of cheekiness. Even her clothes defined her as
someone just that little bit different, swathed as she was in a black and white caftan. She had teamed its generous folds of
fabric with a pair of long black leggings. As far as first impressions go, it was hard to not be impressed!
Marnie enjoyed having a captive audience and spoke almost
incessantly while I worked. She was forthright with her opin-
ions and frequently had me chuckling; it felt more like a social engagement than work when Marnie was around.
She went on to tell me that she would soon be going on a
long-anticipated holiday, and was very excited at the prospect of a week spent in the country.
203
204 Marnie
The beautiful Marnie.
“Where are you off to?” I asked.
“Well …” said Marnie with a clap of her hands. “It’s some-
where really fun; an old school house that was built in the 1800’s!”
My interest was instantly piqued, and I wondered if Mar-
nie was going to stay at the Ellington School House. I immedi-
ately thought of the two gorgeous spirit boys I had met there
a month or so earlier. I’d been intending to go back ever since.
Marnie confirmed that it was indeed the same school
house. I was undecided as to whether I should share the details of my stay with her, so I approached the subject tentatively
without giving anything away.
“So Marnie …” I asked offhandedly. “Do you believe in
ghosts?”
Marnie leaned in towards me with a conspiratorial smile.
“I should think so,” she said. “It’d be hard not to after what I’ve been through!”
Marnie 205
Marnie needed little encouragement; a moment later she
was telling me about her first ghostly encounter. Despite hap-
pening over seventy years ago, the memory remained as vivid
as if it happened a few days ago. Marnie could still picture the tormented apparition whom she encountered in a hallway of
the Fremantle Arts Centre.
“I heard her first,” she told me. “As clear as a bell. The poor woman was crying her heart out …”
Marnie described how she was on her way to an art class
when she heard the plaintive sobbing echoing through the
stairwell. It seemed to Marnie that the crying was getting progressively louder, so she looked around to see if she could find the distraught woman and try to comfort her.
“I turned to look behind me; I couldn’t seem to pinpoint
where the sound was coming from. I called out but there was
no response, just the incessant crying …”
As Marnie reached the top of the stairs and headed down
the corridor, she saw the weeping woman approaching from
the other end. She called out to ask her if she was OK, but as before, the woman just kept crying.
“I could see her as plain as day,” said Marnie, who thought
it odd that the woman was dressed in Victorian-style cloth-
ing. “She was wearing a high-waisted brown skirt with a puff-
sleeved blouse … and one of those frilly white morning caps.”
Marnie wondered if perhaps the woman was an actress,
which would account for her old-fashioned dress. She was yet
to register that the woman was a ghost and kept calling out to her. Within seconds they were right in front of one another,
the woman’s tear-stained face just inches from her own.
“And then,” gasped Marnie, “She just seemed to pass right through me. I felt a cold rush of air and she was gone!”
206 Marnie
Marnie knew that the Arts Centre had once been West-
ern Australia’s first mental asylum, and was convinced that
the weeping apparition was one of the building’s early occu-
pants. What Marnie didn’t realise was that the Fremantle Arts
Centre is thought to be one of the most haunted buildings in
the Southern Hemisphere, and the weeping lady sounds very
much like its most famous ghost.
Sightings of the weeping woman have often been reported
over the years, possibly as early as the 1860’s. Her story is one of the most heart-rending to come out of the asylum’s one
hundred and fifty year history.
It is believed that the woman’s daughter was kidnapped
and murdered; prompting her mental breakdown and subse-
quent confinement. The desperate woman habitually paced
the hallways of the asylum, all the while moaning with all-consuming anguish.
No longer able to bear the enormity of her grief, she
ended up hurl
ing herself from an upstairs window. She was
killed instantly as her body crashed onto the limestone below.
It is thought that the tragic woman is still grieving the loss of her daughter, little realising that she too is dead. Hearing Marnie’s story reminded me of the importance of praying for
lost souls such as the weeping woman. How sad to think that
if only she could cross over, her suffering would finally cease.
I wondered if her beloved daughter was already in the light
waiting for her. I hoped that she too wasn’t trapped in earth-
bound misery, fruitlessly searching for her mother.
Of course there is a chance that the haunting is merely an
energetic replay of past events and that the woman’s spirit is not there at all. Given that her emotions were so intense, she may have merely left a psychic imprint on the ether whilst her Marnie 207
spirit moved on. I sincerely hope this to be the case, the alternative is just too heartbreaking to contemplate.
“Very sad …” said Marnie. “But I have a happy ghost story
too.”
It didn’t take much encouragement for Marnie to tell me
about another memorable spirit encounter; this one taking
place in the 1970’s.
“I remember waking up very early one morning. It was
still dark so I just lay there enjoying the view of the city sky-line. I was feeling quite contented and relaxed. Then without
warning, I felt myself lifting off the bed. It was as though my head lifted off first and the rest of my body followed. If I’d been watching myself side-on, I suppose it would’ve looked as
though my body was transcribing an arc.”
“In one smooth movement I found myself standing at the
foot of the bed, and who should be there waiting for me but
my husband!”
Marnie told me that despite it being three years since
her husband passed away, it felt perfectly normal to find him
standing there. The only thing she found unsettling was the
fact that she could still see her physical body lying inert on the bed. It was however her husband who commanded the focus
of her attention.
“He was as real as can be,” she told me. “He just stood
there smiling in his best navy suit. I could even smell him! He smelt of his favourite hair pomade.”
Marnie told me that she simply stood beside her husband
and gently rested her head on his shoulder.
“It felt perfectly natural and I wanted to make the most of
it. I just wanted to take it all in; the feel of him, his smell … it was such a gift!”
208 Marnie
After a while Marnie found herself lying back in her bed
and a moment later her husband was gone.
“I was so excited there was no chance of getting back to
sleep, so I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I noticed that it was a little after 4.15am.”
It was the dawn of what was to be a very special day, as
Marnie was to discover a couple of hours later. Slipped
beneath her door was a piece of paper, delivered in the early hours of the morning. Not wishing to wake up his mother
(but desperate to share his news) her son had written a note
announcing the birth of Marnie’s first grandchild.
Lily Victoria Grace was delivered at 4.15am; her time of
birth coinciding precisely with her late grandfather’s visit.
“How’d you like that?” asked Marnie with a twinkle in her
eye. “My darling didn’t miss out on being a Grandad after all!”
I went on to tell Marnie about my spirit friends at the
Ellington School House; knowing that she would embrace my
experiences as much as I had embraced hers. She listened with
great interest; all the while smiling and nodding as I told her about the boys.
“I really hope you see them,” I told her. “And if you do,
please make sure you speak to them. They really are gor-
geous!”
“Don’t you worry,” she smiled. “I most certainly will! And
naturally I’ll tell them that Barbara said hello!”
As our appointment concluded I couldn’t help smiling.
What I had expected to be a routine consultation had evolved
into so much more; another reminder of the sheer wonder-
fulness of the spirit world. It seemed I was being blessed with these random insights more and more.
Marnie 209
And of course meeting Marnie had been just as wonderful.
Despite our fifty two year age gap I knew that I’d found a kindred spirit. I couldn’t wait to hear all about her stay at the old school house; I had no doubt that the boys would find her just as endearing as I did!
chapter twenty-four
C l i f f s i d e
Not long after our trip to the old schoolhouse in Dunkirk, I
was back at my clinic, toiling through what had shaped up to
be a mammoth twenty patient day. With only two patients to
go, I was on the downhill slide. I couldn’t get through my last two consultations quickly enough; I was exhausted and ready
to go home.
All that changed when Paul Webster walked through the
door; an abundance of energy and charisma in tow. His ebul-
lience was infectious and I found myself thinking it wasn’t
so bad being at work after all. As an added bonus, Paul came
armed with an arsenal of ghost stories, accrued over the years he and his family spent living in Dunkirk.
Despite being neighbours for almost ten years, our paths
rarely crossed. Paul is a well known authority on community
development, whose unmatched expertise is highly sought
after around the world. As such he seems to be perpetually
travelling, and opportunities for a neighbourly chat are few
211
212 Cliffside
and far between. Fortuitously for me (but perhaps not so for-
tunately for Paul) a knee problem had brought him to my
clinic, and with it, the opportunity to chat.
During the course of the appointment I mentioned our
recent trip to Dunkirk, where I had encountered the spirits of two young boys. Paul recounted his own ghostly recollections
of the historic town, where he and his family had lived in a
gracious old homestead called Cliffside.
Cliffside is a breathtaking Dunkirk landmark, perched over-
looking the township for the last hundred years. Built in 1911, it was steeped in drama and intrigue; with a history so chequered that it was bound to be rife with ghosts. Built by the
original owner as an expression of love for his new wife, Cliffside was a glamorous turn-of the-century party house. It was
the scene of endless, high-end parties; its ballroom frequently bustling with the district’s well-to-do.
The Websters were well aware of their unseen housemates
before moving in, as the vendors made no secret of Cliffside’s restless ghosts. They told Paul that one of the presences (presumably the original lady of the house) had taken a particular dislike to their young daughter. The girl’s photographs were
repeatedly placed facedown, or thrown off the mantelpiece
in disdain. Despite the ghost’s obvious scorn for the girl in
question, Paul assures me that her presence was by no means
malevolent. “She was actually quite a lovely old lady,” he said.
“But for some reason she just didn’t like the young girl. If anything, she was just extremely sad.”
As well as being upfront about the ghosts, no secret was
&
nbsp; made of Cliffside’s tragic past. The original owner’s son had shot himself in the dining room, as a reaction to being spurned by the woman he loved. His suicide was chillingly methodical;
Cliffside 213
he played Smoke Gets In Your Eyes on the gramophone, whilst proceeding to fire a bullet into his head.
Suicide was to revisit the homestead some years later,
when the owner himself chose to take his own life. Rather
than allowing his body to slowly succumb to terminal can-
cer, he chose to exit the world in the same way as his son.
Both tragedies left the lady of the house distraught; her grief-stricken energy remaining palpable within Cliffside’s walls.
Thus informed of Cliffside’s rich and varied history, it was
no surprise to the Websters when the ghosts came to call.
Paul’s wife, Amanda recalls a particularly disturbing epi-
sode which occurred not long after the family moved in. As
her car approached the homestead, Amanda and her friend
suddenly heard a shrill, high pitched scream. The hideous
screeching continued slicing through the air as they continued along the driveway, building in intensity as they drew closer to the house.
It seemed the unearthly noise was coming from the pad-
dock, so the women’s eyes scoured the long grass for a possi-
ble cause of the shrieking. Perhaps an animal had somehow
become trapped or injured. This idea was however quickly dis-
missed, as the source of the disturbance suddenly materialised before them.
A hunched figure scurried across the paddock; it’s shape
defined by a dense, inky blackness. All the while, the screeching didn’t let up. The figure radiated a negativity that was
impossible to ignore.
By the time they reached the homestead, the stable
hand was rushing to meet them. He too had seen and heard
the wailing figure and his shock was indisputable. He was a
pale, clammy mess and was shaking uncontrollably; Amanda
214 Cliffside
and her friend hadn’t fared much better. It was an ominous
encounter and one they would never forget.
There were of course periods of inactivity which made
it feel as though the ghosts weren’t there at all. Then just as the Websters were lulled into believing the ghosts had finally gone, something would stir them up and the disturbances
Embracing the Spirits: True Stories of My Encounters With the Other Side Page 18
