Callie took a fortifying sip of mulled wine and gazed into the fire. Then she began.

‘There’s a valley not far from where I grew up. There’s not much there – a small church, a wood and a row of old cottages. But it’s very beautiful particularly in the winter months when the hills are frosty and the fields fill with mist.

‘There’s a stream there, a tributary of the River Thames, and its banks are white with snowdrops each year. Or rather one of its banks is white with snowdrops. It’s strange because both banks are in the same dappled shade and yet the snowdrops only flower on one side.’

‘Why’s that?’ Lara asked.

‘Shush!’ Josh hissed. ‘No interrupting the storyteller.’

‘Sorry!’ Lara said. ‘Do go on, Callie.’

‘Well,’ Callie continued, ‘the story goes that there was a young woman who used to walk through the misty fields towards the stream. It’s thought that she was looking for her lover who never came back from the war.’

‘Which war?’ Frank asked.

‘Stories vary, but it’s most likely to be the first world war,’ Callie said. ‘Nobody seems to know, but there’s a solitary grave in the churchyard which is said to be hers. It’s weathered and lichened with age and you can no longer make out the name or dates. But she can be seen in the misty fields of winter, her face as pale as frost as she makes her way to the stream, the snowdrops growing where she walks.’

Silence greeted Callie as she finished and she swallowed hard.

‘It’s not much of a story, I’m afraid. Not a lot happens,’ she apologised.

‘Are you kidding?’ Lara said. ‘It’s one of the spookiest things I’ve heard in a long time!’

‘Isn’t that what ghost stories are, though? A big lot of spooky atmosphere and not much plot?’ Polly asked.

‘I think you should write it down,’ Sam said.

‘Maybe,’ Callie said. ‘I wonder if something more could be made of it.’

‘If you throw in a fusty old bachelor academic and some kind of ancient treasure, it could rival M R James for sure,’ Grandpa Joe said with a laughed.

Callie grinned. ‘I don’t know. I think I’d rather go down the romantic route and find out more about the girl’s lover. What was their relationship like? Did they write to each other while he was away?’

‘You’re going to have to write that now,’ Lara said.

‘Did you ever see the snowdrop girl?’ Bryony asked.

‘I’m afraid not although I did once go there in February when the snowdrops were flowering, but it was a damp, grey day. Perhaps not very good for ghosts.’

‘It’s funny, isn’t it?’ Polly said. ‘So many ghost stories are set in winter or on a cold, dark day.’

‘It was a dark and stormy night!’ Josh said.

‘Exactly!’ Polly said. ‘But wouldn’t it be spookier to have a ghost appear on a summer’s day – say in a beautiful garden when you’re least expecting it?’

‘But dark, wintery days put us in the mood,’ Lara said. ‘Pathetic fallacy and all that – where the weather matches the action of the story. I think it builds tension.’

‘I suppose it’s whether you prefer a build-up of tension,’ Sam said, ‘or a horrific shock.’

‘Suspense or surprise,’ Frank said. ‘Which is more important?’

‘Suspense lasts longer as you’re reading,’ Bryony said, ‘but surprise or shock will get more of a response.’

‘I prefer shock,’ Eleanor said. ‘It gets things over and done with nice and quickly. Suspense lingers and frightens you for too long.’

Frank leaned towards her and kissed her cheek.

‘Perhaps we should read something a bit lighter one Christmas,’ she suggested.

‘Oh, not A Christmas Carol,’ Josh said. ‘I mean Dickens is a classic and everything, but it’s not exactly spooky, is it?’

‘What’s not spooky about seeing your dead business colleague’s face in a door knocker or seeing your own grave?’ Bryony cried.

‘I guess,’ Josh said. ‘But I can’t help picturing the Muppets whenever I read or hear it now. It’s ruined it for me.’

Grandpa Joe chuckled from his chair.

‘I love the conversations your family has about books,’ Callie whispered to Sam.

‘I’m not sure we ever talk about anything else,’ he whispered back. ‘Or, if we do, it usually swings back to books.’

‘I like that.’

‘Just let me know if you get bored and want to go home.’

‘Are you kidding? I’m loving it.’

‘Even though Bryony made you tell a ghost story?’

‘At least I didn’t have to read out loud from a book.’

‘No, they’re saving that task for next year,’ Sam said, squeezing her hand.

‘Hey – shush a min!’ Frank suddenly said. ‘Did you hear that?’

‘Hear what?’ Sam asked.

‘I thought I heard footsteps on the driveway.’

Everyone was silent for a moment and then Eleanor laughed.

‘He’s just being silly,’ she said.

‘Oh, Dad!’ Polly cried. ‘You freaked me out.’

‘Me too – that’s not funny,’ Lara said from the floor.

‘I’m not joking, folks,’ Frank said.

‘Well, if you really heard something, we’d better take a look,’ Sam said, on his feet in an instant.

Eleanor was shaking her head. ‘If you’re messing around...’ she warned but she was on her feet too and heading towards the living room curtains.

‘Let me,’ Frank said, drawing one of the curtains back and peering out of the sash window. The dark evening glared back at them, solid and unyielding. Soon there were half a dozen Nightingale faces peering out into the dark, the orange flames of the fire reflected in the glass between them.

‘I can’t see anything,’ Polly said.

‘Doesn’t mean there isn’t somebody out there,’ Frank told her.

‘Absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence,’ Josh said.

‘Exactly,’ Frank agreed. ‘I’m heading out there.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ Eleanor said.

‘It’s as well to know for sure,’ Frank said, heading out of the living room into the hallway. Everybody followed him and watched as he pulled on his coat and a pair of boots.

‘I’m coming with you,’ Sam said, finding his own coat as his father opened the front door. A gust of wind blew inside, reminding them that they might be nice and cosy inside but winter was still raging outside.

Callie watched as the two men disappeared into the darkness of the garden.

‘I wish they hadn’t gone out there,’ Eleanor said.

‘They’ll be back in a minute,’ Polly assured her mother. ‘As soon as they realise how cold it is.’

Everyone waited anxiously by the front door, keeping it just a little bit open so they could see the moment the men returned.

‘Come back inside, Frank!’ Eleanor called into the darkness. The wind had picked up now and was howling through the tall trees on the other side of the road. Eleanor poked her head out and called again.

A moment later, Frank and Sam were back inside, stomping their feet and rubbing their hands together.

‘Couldn’t see anyone,’ Frank said.

‘Or anything,’ Sam added.

‘It was probably nothing, Dad,’ Josh said.

‘Who would be out on a night like this?’ Polly observed.

‘Nobody,’ Grandpa said. ‘Come on, Nell – let’s get back to the fire.’

‘Can we heat some more mulled wine, Mum?’ Josh asked.

‘I think I’d rather have a cup of tea,’ Polly said.

‘Polly, put the kettle on,’ Lara chimed.

‘Ha!’ Polly said. ‘I was going to give you a tenner if you hadn’t said that.’

‘Yeah, right!’ Lara said.

‘I think I’ll have a tea too,’ Eleanor said. ‘Anybody else?’

Everybody nodded and made their way to the kitchen where a tea tray was soon laid with mugs.

Eleanor walked over to place a spoon on the draining board and let out a little scream.

‘Frank! There’s something out there.’

Everybody moved towards the window which overlooked the back garden.

‘Wouldn’t the security light come on if there was something out there?’ Polly asked.

‘It did come on,’ Eleanor said. ‘It’s just switched off.’

‘And now it’s on again,’ Josh said unnecessarily as the light flooded the garden and everyone moved closer to the window.

‘I can’t see anything,’ Bryony said. ‘Where was it, Mum?’

‘In the shrubbery. On the left. I didn’t get a very good look – it moved pretty fast.’

‘Well, I can’t see anything now.’

‘Listen,’ Eleanor said as Brontë and Hardy started to bark from the boot room. ‘The dogs know something is out there.’

‘They’re probably just picking up on your fear,’ Frank said. ‘That’s all. Come on now, let’s have this tea. I need to warm up by the fire.’

‘Come on, Mum,’ Polly said, putting her arm around her mother’s shoulder and giving her a squeeze.

They all trooped through to the living room and the mugs of tea were handed out.

‘Maybe it’s that stray dog come back again or Black Shuck come to wish us a Merry Christmas,’ Grandpa Joe laughed.

‘Don’t even joke about it, Grandpa!’ Polly said.

‘Tell me more about this Black Shuck,’ Callie asked as she settled back on the sofa.’

‘Dad – you were actually told a story by a local about him, weren’t you?’ Frank asked.

‘That’s right, son,’ Grandpa Joe said. ‘We were out by the coast. Somewhere between Aldeburgh and Southwold. Beautiful heathland up that way. Lots of open space. A landscape of wind and light. Do you remember that day, Nell?’ he asked his wife. ‘The day we spoke to the old farmer’s wife hanging out her washing?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Nell said. ‘Old Shuck.’

‘Old Shuck. Black Shuck. Sometimes Old Shock,’ Grandpa Joe went on. ‘The farmer’s wife called him Old Shuck and told a fearful tail of a woman in her village some years before who’d been cycling home from work after dark when she was aware that something was following her in the gorse bushes that ran alongside the road.’

‘Did she see anything?’ Lara asked.

‘At first, she just kept peddling. The old manor house she worked at was a good two miles from her village and she wanted to get home as quickly as possible but, no matter how fast she peddled, the beast kept pace with her. She couldn’t shake it off.’

‘You can’t shake off Old Shuck,’ Grandma Nell said.

‘But she kept peddling,’ Grandpa Joe continued, ‘the thin beam from her headlamp lighting the road ahead. Then she made the mistake of looking behind her.’

‘What did she see?’ Bryony asked.

‘A pair of huge red eyes watching her from the undergrowth,’ Grandpa Joe said. ‘But the beast made no sound as it followed her and the next time she turned to look it had vanished.’

‘And what happened to the woman?’ Callie asked.

‘Nothing happened to the woman but her mother died the very next week. Shuck, you see, is thought to be an omen of death – maybe not of the person who sees him but of somebody close to them.’

‘Well, that’s got my spine good and tingling,’ Lara said from her seat on the floor.

‘And the farmer’s wife told us that the woman gave in her notice at the manor house and took work in the village. She never went down that stretch of road again.’

‘And did you and Grandma go down the road?’ Bryony asked.

‘We did,’ he said proudly, ‘only we drove. With the windows up and the doors locked.’

‘There isn’t actually any physical evidence for Shuck though, is there?’ Josh asked.

‘Don’t you remember the church door?’ Frank asked his son. ‘I took you out to Blythburgh with me on a job and we stopped to look at the church on the way home.’

Josh frowned. ‘You mean those marks on the door?’

‘What marks?’ Polly asked.

‘Big black marks on the old wooden door,’ Frank told them. ‘Said to be Shuck’s from an attack during a storm when he crashed into the church and killed a man and a boy.’

‘Wasn’t there a huge dog skeleton found recently in Suffolk?’ Eleanor asked.

‘That’s right,’ Sam said. ‘Out at Leiston Abbey. The bones of a seven-foot-long dog were found in a grave. That’s not far from Blythburgh with those claw marks on the church door, or Bungay where there was another fatal attack.’

‘You think those bones really belonged to some kind of hell hound?’ Callie asked.

‘Who knows?’ Sam said. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth...’

‘Oh, my god!’ Lara said. ‘I don’t like the thought of a seven-foot dog prowling in our shrubbery.’

‘There’s nothing out there,’ Josh said.

Just then there was a loud bang on the front door, making everyone leap up from where they were sitting.

‘What on earth?’ Frank shouted, on his feet and out in the hallway quicker than you could say Ebenezer Scrooge.

Everyone except Grandma Nell followed him again. Sam grabbed hold of Callie’s hand and she was glad of the comforting gesture because she couldn’t help feeling a little nervous as Frank opened the door.

‘There’s nobody there,’ he said.

‘That was definitely a bang on the door. We didn’t imagine that, did we?’ Josh said.

‘No, we didn’t,’ Frank said, stepping out into the night.

‘Please come back in, Frank,’ Eleanor called.

‘This is beginning to freak me out now,’ Lara said.

A handful of dead leaves chased each other through the door and made Callie shiver.

‘I should go out after him,’ Sam said, stepping forward to grab his coat again just as Frank came back inside.

‘Couldn’t see a thing,’ he said. ‘We could get torches and do a proper sweep of the garden.’

‘We could call the police,’ Lara said.

‘Or we could all just go back to the fire,’ Grandpa Joe said. ‘If it’s anything urgent I’m sure we’ll hear about it in good time.’

‘But who would knock on a front door on Christmas Eve and then run off? Eleanor asked.

‘It was a bang rather than a knock,’ Polly said.

Grandpa Joe gently ushered everyone back into the living room.

‘There’s a gap in the curtains,’ Bryony said, moving towards them to close them tightly.

‘Well, that’s ruined a nice cosy evening,’ Polly complained. ‘I feel all on edge now.’

‘I was already feeling that way after Grandpa’s Black Shuck story,’ Lara admitted.

‘I think we’d better get on with the ghost stories,’ Josh said. ‘That’ll be the best way to forget whatever might or might not be going on outside. Who’s next?’

‘I’m not sure I’m in the mood anymore,’ Bryony said.

‘How about a nice cheery story?’ Polly said.

‘Do we know any of those?’ Josh asked with a laugh.

‘I know one,’ Lara said. ‘Actually, Callie’s snowdrop story reminded me about it. It’s a kind of romantic ghost story.’

‘It’s not scary, is it?’ Eleanor asked her daughter. ‘I think I’m done with scary for tonight.’

‘It’s not scary, I promise.’

‘Well, let’s hear it,’ Bryony said and so Lara began.