The Basement
Roland’s Rescue
Again I was looking forward to the weekend, particularly this weekend. You see mother had rung to say the BBC had contacted father earlier in the week for permission to use the castle grounds to film location shots for a new period TV drama called Mr Grayson. It was just a one day’s shoot. There were no interior shots required.There were approximately 13 or 14 film crew expected. The director and his assistant, a make-up lady, an audio man and his assistant, a lighting director plus two lighting assistants or ‘sparks’ I believe they call them, a props person plus 2 actors and 2 actresses and a wardrobe person.
The film crew had arrived by a crew bus and brought their own canteen truck which was a relief for Mrs Pasta and the kitchen staff.-
The crew were busy unloading equipment when Rebecca, Phaedra, Tamsin and I arrived at the castle Saturday mid-morning after being picked up by Andrew the stable lad at Oban Airport.
Andrew has now taken over many of Beecham’s duties in deference to his age. Beecham had been our family retainer longer than any of us can remember, well before I was born. It was Andrew that ferried us from Oban airport to Inveraray Castle calling in on the way at Mr and Mrs Lacey’s converted presbytery, Loch Awe Grange.
We had left Denham Hall Young Ladies College very early so as not to miss all the excitement. Filming had not yet started when we arrived at Inveraray. Lights were being positioned and the producer was still discussing shots.
We went into the castle kitchen to see what we could scrounge as we had missed breakfast at Denham Hall in our hurry to get to Stanstead airport. We were not disappointed as Mrs Pasta was busying cooking her own breakfast.
The TV crew had chosen a beautiful day to record; no doubt they had waited for a sunny day to be forecast. After breakfast, we found some fold-out chairs to relax and positioned ourselves like spectators at a cricket match to watch the film rehearsals taking place between the South and West Turrets.
While lights were being rigged, camera positions were being established and actor’s moves being rehearsed Tamsin, Phaedra and Rebecca disappeared in the direction of the kitchens to see if Mrs Pasta had any ice cream hidden anywhere and were successful, I am pleased to say.
As recording had not yet started in earnest mother and father who had surfaced earlier to find little serious activity taking place retired to the saloon.
Tamsin suggested, “We could ask the director if he would like to use us for crowd shots”.
Rebecca giggled “Tamsin, girls did not wear leggings and stuff in the 18th century. It would spoil the illusion”.
“Just asking” Tamsin haughtily replied.
She added “Anyhow I am sure Bridgette could rustle up some gear for us”.
I replied “Tamsin, I don’t think they are going to rewrite the script just for us to show off our gear. It is a period drama for heaven’s sake”.
The director appeared with his personal assistant (PA for short) clutching her script-board. After an animated discussion with the PA, he called for everyone’s attention and announced “Quiet people. This is just a just walk-through. Julian treasure, straighten your wig”.
“Right people, in your own time”.
This film business was a very slow process. I knew Tamsin was going to lose interest very quickly and I was not about to be disappointed. After about 10 minutes of cries from the producer like ‘Stop people’ and instructions like ‘Julian love, you are missing your mark every time and you end up masking Bernice’s MCU (medium close up) and the PA reminding Bernice the word is ‘anyway’ not ‘ANYWAYS’.
Phaedra shook her head and suggested we retire to the tennis courts.
Mother and father arrived and took their drinks out into the afternoon sun and sat by the tennis courts to watch the ladies doubles match. In the late afternoon, two singles matches were played. Scores were not important.
At around 5 pm the film crew started to pack their gear.
It was Saturday evening. There was no bridge tournament. Even though Mrs Dalrymple had been invited to tea there were no attempts planned to contact our ‘dear departed’ and no tarot card readings. Mother and Mrs Dalrymple both suspected they were psychics. I have no idea where they got that idea from, nor did father.
Gentle readers, it was NOT to be an evening of television quiz shows, cooking shows, Come Dancing or talent shows, instead it was a feast of TV delights that exercised the brain.
It was during a natural history programme about the flora and fauna of the highlands of Papua, New Guinea we thought we heard a soft knocking.
Father questioned, “Who would be here this time of night?”
There were no visitors at the door.
Rebecca said jokingly “Hello it might be another of Inveraray’s ghosts abroad tonight”.
The knocking continued sporadically. We tried to chase its origin but eventually the knocking stopped, so we went back to the saloon and to continue watching the natives in New Guinea.
After about 10 minutes the knocking started again but it was very difficult to track down.
Father said irritably “where is that infernal knocking coming from? I can tolerate musical harpists and bagpipers but knocking on walls is not a big thing with them”.
Tamsin pointed out the castle’s brochure will have to be rewritten with the addition of a new ghost.
Rebecca replied, “Why bother? It has no musical abilities. Can we go to bed now?”
As we retired to our rooms the knocking stopped.
I always make sure my mobile phone is turned off in the classroom as Mr Crisis, our science teacher, is a stickler about phones going off in the classroom.
When I left the classroom on Tuesday morning after the first lesson, on checking my mobile I realized mother had been trying to contact me. I immediately rang her in case it was a message of importance.
I will bring you up to speed on the news from Inveraray. We had left the castle early Sunday afternoon to head back to Oban Airport arriving back at Denham Hall around 5 pm.
Mother said the knocking had continued intermittently during the day but all was quiet Sunday night. I had previously suggested to mother to summons Mrs Dalrymple to do whatever one does to encourage the lost soul to go elsewhere. Thankfully she was not needed.
She told me that on Tuesday morning a BBC person had arrived at the castle to inquire if anyone had seen one of the ‘Sparks’ from the film crew. If you are interested his name was Roland. His wife had rung the TV station to say he had not returned home. After it was discovered he was missing it was realized the last place he had been seen was on the film shoot.
Father gathered the gardeners, the maintenance men, and the kitchen staff and told them to search the grounds from top to bottom. Father and Andrew searched the castle rooms one by one.
It was while searching near the north west hall staircase they went down to the basement. There was a small cupboard in the tea room for stores which was wedged open when someone was inside as it had a habit of closing on itself and locking, which was a trap for the unwary. Fortunately the kitchen workers were aware of this but unfortunately for Roland, he was not.
Due to the few numbers of visitors at this time of year, the basement had been closed to the public for a couple of days for renovation and modifications.
It was in this store cupboard off the Tea Room where Roland was discovered. He had been nosing around and got trapped. What made it worse the light in the cupboard was not working. That was another job for the maintenance men.
When father found Roland he was not exactly in a malnourished state, like covered with sores, flies and stuff with a large growth of beard and looking hollow-eyed, thin and dehydrated... er and hallucinating, because he had only been missing a for a day or two.
You could imagine, he was really pleased to see father who immediately took him to the kitchen and gave him a cup of tea and a biscuit.
I told the other girls what had happened and informed them there had been no additions to the tally of ghosts at the castle.
Thankfully Mrs Dalrymple’s services were not needed at this time.
