As I looked around Port Regis School in Dorset, I couldn’t believe this grand old building, set in ornate gardens, was to be my home for the next six weeks of the Summer holidays.
As we neared my bedroom in the mansion building – the old matron’s room – my boss Chris, said: ‘And this is where the legendary White Lady roams.’
I felt a shiver down my spine, but I didn’t ask anything more, and I was soon so busy teaching English to kids from overseas that I forgot all about it.
Packing up one evening after a long day, I was feeling so bushed all I wanted was my bed. So I headed back to my room and shut my heavy, creaky bedroom door.
Next morning, I got up feeling refreshed and ready for another day with the kids. Then I stopped dead in my tracks – the door which I’d definitely shut – was wide open.
It was right next to my bed and, as I’m a light sleeper, wouldn’t I have heard it open?
‘I’m sure that door can’t open by itself. Maybe the place is haunted?’ I said to my boyfriend Michael, 28. He was also teaching at the school but staying in another part of the building as men and women had to be separate.
Michael could see the fear on my face and tried to comfort me.‘You’re probably just exhausted,’ he added sympathetically.
But it happened twice again. Could someone be watching me?
Still, I managed to put it out of my mind during the day as we were all having such a great time.
When our six-week stint was almost over, I took my group of 10-year-olds to the library for one of their last classes.
After they left, I stayed behind to pack up.
Suddenly, I heard a blood-curdling scream.
I raced down the corridor thinking someone might have had an accident. But there was no one there.
Terrified, I was relieved that the Summer camp was near its end.
On our last evening we had a party and some people started sharing spooky stories. So I told the group about the open door and the awful scream.
Sarah, one of my bosses, said: ‘I think you might have had an encounter with the White Lady’.
Her words chilled me to the bone. This must have been the lady Chris had mentioned during my first tour.
Sarah explained that the White Lady’s husband died in a war, leaving her to care for her daughter, but she couldn’t cope and drowned herself.
Sarah didn’t know which war it was or how long ago it had happened. All she knew was this poor woman’s ghost still roamed the mansion near the matron’s room searching for her daughter.
They then took me to another part of the school with old pictures. In one black and white photo from 1976, I saw a masked face in one of the windows.
Could that have been the White Lady, peering out over the children?
The next day, I packed up, relieved to be going home.
I’d had a wonderful time, but I’ve decided that if I return next year I won’t be staying in the matron’s room!