The Storyteller: Brixham's most haunted house

As my Summer Season of Ghost Walks draws to a close, with my Brixham walk, I just wanted to take a moment, to look back over the year, and how things have progressed since I began, back in January.

I’ve managed to hold one a month, since then, and, from mid-July, until the end of this month, I will have done one practically every Wednesday. I’m quite proud of that. So thank you to everyone reading this, who has joined me so far...don’t worry, I will be back with a Halloween special next month, and some in the lead up to Christmas, so you will still have a chance this year.

Also, thank you to Rik, and his team, at the Conservative Club, who welcomed me with open arms, one cold Winter’s day, back in January, and who have been allowing me to start my walks there ever since.

Thank you also, to everyone who has shared with me their stories and experiences, as we’ve walked together, allowing me to add them to my repertoire of Brixham hauntings.  My tales have awoken memories in some people, who feel they can share with me, their own spooky encounters, that compliment those I already tell.

I’m thinking about one place, in particular, that already has an intriguing history of spooky activity, and which I have been able to add to, several times this Summer...I refer to Black House, what I would like to dub, the most haunted house in Brixham!

The goings on in the property, have been well-documented over the years, in various local guide books, as well as weightier tomes of national hauntings. I first heard, a first- hand account of an incident there, many years ago, when I attended a talk by a local estate agent, about Brixham’s many supernatural hotspots, during which he shared his own experience at the notorious Black House.

He was there for work purposes, checking the place over, prior to it being sold. Inspecting one of the bedrooms, he suddenly found he was locked in, and none of the keys he had with him, would unlock it. This was in pre mobile phone days, so he sheepishly had to wait for one of his colleagues to realise he was missing, and to come and let him out. Needless to say, he didn’t put himself forward to work on Black House ever again.

Doors mysteriously locking themselves, is but one of the phenomenon reported there. The origins of these hauntings goes way back, almost to when it was first built...

This could have been in the 16th or 17th century, as a manor house, but a dwelling on the site possibly dates back even further, maybe 15th century,  when it was built to house the monks, who oversaw the construction of the nearby St Mary’s Church, replacing an even earlier Norman place of worship.

This would explain why ghostly monks have been seen in the vicinity, over the years, and why areas of the property, within the grounds of Black House, have been known as Black Friars House, and Friars Pardon. However, the actual haunting of the manor, dates back to the 16th century, and the tragic tale of one, Squire Hilliard and his son. 

It is said that the son had fallen for a pretty, local dairy maid, who lived and worked close by, but his father didn’t approve of their union, instead, he hatched a plan to break them apart. Finding a commission for his son on a merchant ship, he told him that the experience would make a man of him. Whilst he was at sea, the Squire forced the poor dairy maid to marry another.

As fate would have it, the son returned home, on the day of her wedding, to witness the girl he truly loved, exiting St Mary’s Church, on the arm of her new husband. Heartbroken, the poor boy rode his horse back to Black House, where he hung himself from a tree in the grounds...it is said that the ghost that haunts the manor is either the son, or Squire Hilliard himself, who roams the property, as an act of remorse, at what he caused his boy to do...whichever, it is their paranormal activity that has been experienced, and witnessed many times over the years. Including the sound of horse’s hooves on cobbles, as the son’s steed returns home rider less...

One more recent owner of Black House,  who suffered under the activity of “her ghost”, especially during the Second World War,  was a Miss Joyce. She was actually the sister of William Joyce, the notorious German propagandist, known as Lord Haw-Haw, who was executed for treason...becoming the last man to be hung in this country for this crime.

His wife, known as Lady Haw-Haw, who shared his allegiance, was spared a similar fate. His daughter petitioned to have his body repatriated to his former home in Ireland, where his parents were both from, and that’s where his grave can be found today.

During the war, Miss Joyce was continuously called upon by the local air raid wardens, telling her to switch off the light in her upstairs window, and to keep the blackout curtains closed...she always protested that this was the work of “her ghost”! I find it puzzling that, if this was genuine paranormal activity, happening regularly, that she didn’t do more to prevent it from being a danger, as any light source, visible from German planes overhead, would put that part of the English coastline under threat from being bombed.

Some more recent activity in the house, I have written about before, but it bears repeating, as some people joining my walks have provided corroborative testimony to it, which I find is validation for why I do what I do...

One story was brought to us by Miss Joyce’s dentist, no less, who attended one of our Monday night meetings, at Churston Court, with the express intent of unburdening himself of his traumatic experience. 

He was once called upon to make an emergency, out of hours visit to Black House, as Miss Joyce had broken her dentures. As he sat in her kitchen, taking the necessary measurements, there came an almighty crash, coming from an upstairs room, followed by the sound of something being dragged across bare floorboards on chains!

The poor guy couldn’t get out of there quick enough! The next day, returning from work, he found a handwritten note, from Miss Joyce, through his letterbox, apologising for the behaviour of “her ghost”, the previous evening. Once he had completed the work for her, he returned to fit them, a task he performed on her doorstep, wishing never to set foot inside ever again. Fortunately for him, he had got the job done right, first time...

Whilst telling this story to a group, back at the start of the Summer, a woman interjected, explaining that she had heard those same dragging chains, back when she was 13, and doing a school project about Miss Joyce and her ghost.

She, and her friend, had been invited in to hear some tales, but the elderly lady refused to tell ghost stories. However, whilst they were seated in the kitchen, listening, they heard the sound of a loud crash, followed by the dragging of chains, coming from above. Needless to say, the two girls didn’t go rushing off, for this is what they had come for!

One final story, that I was told only recently, came from the sister of a good friend of mine. As they accompanied me on one of my walks, memories of the time they spent growing up in Brixham, came flooding back, especially when I started talking about Black House.

It turned out that Miss Joyce, used to attend the same local Methodist Church as their family. They had fond memories, of the sweet old lady inviting members of the congregation into her home, for afternoon tea. On these occasions, nothing untoward happened, but the sister recalls a night, just before Christmas, one year, when something most definitely did!

Back in those days, young members of the congregation, were invited to visit the homes of more infirm parishioners, to serenade them with carols. One evening, it was the turn of Miss Joyce. The sister remembers congregating in the spacious hallway to the house, preparing to sing, when she and her friend decided to go upstairs, to a balcony, overlooking the rest of the children, and to project from there.

After several carols, the next up was “Whilst Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by night”. The two mischievous girls decided to sing the alternative version, which I’m sure everyone knows and loves, “Whilst Shepherds Washed Their Socks By Night”...

No sooner had the girls uttered these alternative lyrics, when a line of dining chairs, positioned against the back wall of the balcony, behind them, started to move, and, one by one, tipped over! Obviously, Miss Joyce’s ghost did not approve! The girls ran back downstairs, and behaved themselves for the rest of their visit...

Sadly, Miss Joyce is no longer with us, and I believe that Black House has been divided up into flats, but I would love to know if activity is still experienced there. Who knows, maybe one day, I might get an opportunity to take a look inside the most haunted house in Brixham!