Gravelly Hill, once known as the Lichfield Road, is an ancient road as it was the main highway that connected the village of Erdington to Salford Bridge and then Birmingham.
Rookery House, Erdington
With the advent of the railways in the 1860′s, splendid red brick houses were built in Gravelly Hill as homes for the industrialists of Birmingham. Sadly, several have been demolished or have lost their former glory by either conversion into flats or neglect. Hidden away, however, there is one house that seems to still have a visitor from the past. Almost surrounded by modern housing the remnants of a more rural time can still be seen.
The long garden wall stretches deep down a side road. Along the wall is a long forgotten door that should lead to a “secret garden”. The back of the house still boasts the coloured stained glass windows that look onto, what is left of the Victorian lawn and flower beds. When I was a child I used to play in the garden which seemed to go on forever, leading eventually to a cobblestone yard and dilapidated stables. The garden had long been neglected, the lawn looked more like savannah grass and weeds populated the flower beds. However it was still a magical, mysterious place in which to play. Imagining the wheels of carriages noisily turning over on the cobblestones and the hot breath of horses, like steam from a kettle making trails in the crisp morning air were images that swept over me and kindled a desire to search for the mysteries of the past.
Imagination was my best playmate as I was on my own…..or was I? As I played amongst the now dilapidated stables and overgrown grass, I always felt that there was someone else watching me and I was convinced that, as I made my way up the garden and back into the house for tea, if I turned around quickly enough I would see her. I say “her” as I was sure it would be a girl. A girl dressed in the Edwardian fashion, very similar to Jenny Agutter in the famous film, “The Railway Children.” For some reason I gave her the name of Harriet!
Let us now continue the story inside the house. By the 1960′s the house had been converted into flats and my Aunt Evelyn, Mrs Blundell, lived upstairs. From the lounge (which probably had been the main bedroom), footsteps could be heard, footsteps of a woman that would come up the stairs and go along the landing and carry on to the back of the house. At first my Aunt thought it was her teenage daughter, Teresa, coming home from school only to discover that the flat was empty.
This happened on several occasions but the pattern would change. Sometimes the footsteps would turn right at the top of the stairs and go into the main bedroom that overlooks the front of the house. On other occasions the “visitor” would turn left and go down the landing to the bathroom (which was probably once a bedroom) and more often than not slam the door shut as if she were in a foul mood.
This behaviour went on for years and was blandly accepted. However, the pattern of activity did eventually change. My cousin, on finishing a telephone conversation late at night, walked down the corridor only to suddenly feel extremely cold and as she hurried into the kitchen she felt “something” as cold as ice brush past her! She also experienced one night when she suddenly woke up to see the figure of a young woman bending over her. Her sister, Sheila, also had a similar experience.
Another family member was disturbed from a night’s sleep to see, what he described as a dark figure opening the door to leave his room.
Not long after these events my Mother called to the house. As she climbed to the top of the stairs she heard a noise and looked up to see someone go into one of the bedrooms. She remembers seeing a lady’s arm, dressed in dark clothing. She also noticed that the hand she saw was, “dainty,” like that of a “Young woman’s.” The arm quickly darted behind the door as if that person did not wish to be seen but was unfortunately caught. Out of curiosity my Mother went to investigate. On entering the bedroom she was more than surprised to find the room empty except for a bed and ironing board!
Later, my Aunt Evelyn was to tell me that in the morning there would be a pleasant, sweet smell of roses in the lounge and also an aroma of cigars and brandy. Eventually, Evelyn saw the ghost. She described her as, “A young, very pretty woman dressed all in brown.” The apparition only lasted for a few moments but it was enough to convince my her and many others that a young Edwardian woman visits the house on Gravelly Hill. But why, is the question so obviously posed?
A Mrs Banks, an elderly lady in the sixties, whom Evelyn nursed in the house, also heard footsteps coming up the stairs and would say, “Mr Blundell is home early tonight.” My Aunt did not have the heart to tell her that my uncle would not be home for several hours! Mrs Banks also said she was almost certain that a young woman in 1911 had committed suicide by throwing herself out of an upstairs window. She was the daughter of a wealthy business- man who owned a pie factory in Birmingham and, after a family dispute, it seems, decided to kill herself. This story would match up neatly with footsteps, the slamming of doors, the furious fast footsteps coming up the stairs and along the landing to either the bathroom or front bedroom.
As mentioned previously the house is divided into flats and recently I went to interview Mrs Elizabeth Packer who lived next door to my aunt. She too has experienced “happenings,” the first being when she moved into the flat in 1963. She was watching television, alone, one night when she suddenly felt someone clasp her left shoulder. At first she thought it was her husband back early and playing a trick on her. She turned round ready to admonish him only to discover that there was no one there. In fact the whole flat was empty. The same incident was repeated three weeks later. Also, the scent of, “Delicate perfume,” could be smelt in the room, suggesting that the presence was female.
Although the “clasping hand,” has not occurred for many years Mrs Packer said she still sensed there was something in the flat as recently as last year, 1994. Quite often she would see, albeit, fleetingly, a shadow pass before her eyes. She described it as, “Not substantial,” but certainly something that was there. Neither was it a trick of the light for every time it happened the room was well lit. She also always felt, especially when walking in the garden, that she was being watched.
I was also informed that another lady of the house regularly experienced, “Lots of little things,” one being the time she came to Mrs Packer’s flat and on entering the lounge said, pointing to the corner of the room, “Is that someone you know?”
Mrs Packer, quite perplexed, said, “Who?”
“That lady with the little girl,” came the reply.
Mrs Packer turned round to see where the lady was looking only to see the corner of the room as it normally was with the television set. There was no one there but Mrs Packer’s guest believed that a lady with a young girl had stood in the corner of the room!
Mrs Packer also said that the house had once been a school but did not know when that was. This interested me because, like with Mrs Packer, I always felt that when I was in the garden I was being watched and I was convinced that it was a young girl. Now I had discovered that there had been a school in the house!
The only disconcerting part of the story is that the lady who saw the woman and the girl in Mrs Packer’s flat also had a very frightening experience in her kitchen which lay at the back of the house. She was quietly working away when she felt distracted. She turned round and was horrified at what she saw. Above her left shoulder was what she described as a, “Terrible face,” which wasn’t either male or female but “Evil.” The poor woman was petrified.
To add to the story one day before Aunty Evelyn vacated the flat she came home one day to find a young “hippy girl,” sitting on the doorstep. She was hoping to borrow money so she could return home to Bristol. She was tired, hungry and pregnant. My Aunt invited her in for a breakfast of fried bacon and eggs. On entering the house the girl froze and said to Aunt Evelyn that there had been, “Great jealousy,” in the house!
So did the young traveller’s mind tune in, like radio waves, into the emotions of the past? If Mrs Banks was correct about the suicide then the statement about jealousy would help piece the jigsaw together. Despite research I have never been able to verify the story. The family that built and lived in the house were called Edwards and had no connection with any pie factory or the meat trade. However, it was Mother who inadvertently threw light on to the mystery. One evening when enquiring about the history of the house she casually told me that in Birmingham there was a well-known family of butchers, called Thompson, who were famous for their pork pies. Mom then went on to tell me that a family called Thompson lived in the house as tenants and their family occupation? They owned butchers shops and their speciality was meat pies! Maybe Mrs Banks was right after all and it was the daughter of a pie manufacturer who died all those years ago!
However, since Aunt Evelyn no longer lives there I do not know if “Harriet” still visits. We will probably never know if the poor distraught woman, because of some family upset, took her own life by throwing herself out of the bedroom window. If she did, will her torment end or, like a well worn record, will she keep replaying those last final moments until she is released from her suffering ? Let’s hope and pray she is at peace now.
GHOST STORIES OF ERDINGTON is published by Brewin Books.
Now after almost 40 years the Black Country is on the rise again, new companies are growing up in between the haunted ruins of a glorious, historically rich area. But Black Country folk never forget their past, celebrating it with The Black Country Living Museum and embracing the plethora of ghost stories which haunt every corner. Pub’s, houses, canal tunnels, fire stations, castles and schools all have a dark supernatural story to tell, alongside the new canal developments and shiny offices.
