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animal had somehow

become trapped or injured. This idea was however quickly dis-

missed, as the source of the disturbance suddenly materialised before them.

A hunched figure scurried across the paddock; it’s shape

defined by a dense, inky blackness. All the while, the screeching didn’t let up. The figure radiated a negativity that was

impossible to ignore.

By the time they reached the homestead, the stable

hand was rushing to meet them. He too had seen and heard

the wailing figure and his shock was indisputable. He was a

pale, clammy mess and was shaking uncontrollably; Amanda

214Cliffside

and her friend hadn’t fared much better. It was an ominous

encounter and one they would never forget.

There were of course periods of inactivity which made

it feel as though the ghosts weren’t there at all. Then just as the Websters were lulled into believing the ghosts had finally gone, something would stir them up and the disturbances

would fire up again. This was particularly true when work

was being done on the property, as the ghosts seemed to disap-

prove of the homestead being changed in any way.

Paul recalls one particularly unsettling episode which was

precipitated by some trenches being dug in the backyard. The

job was besieged by countless unforeseeable problems, as one

hiccup after another seemed to halt the project in its tracks. It felt as though they were being sabotaged.

Finally, against the odds and despite all the hurdles, the digging was complete. It seemed that the ghosts were not happy,

and wasted no time in conveying their displeasure.

The sight which greeted Paul the following morning made

his heart skip a beat, it defied all logical explanation. As he entered the grand dining room, he was met by a scene of utter

chaos. All of the furniture had been piled in to the room’s

centre; no mean feat when one considers the vast number

and weight of the room’s antique pieces. The illogicality of

it made it all the more sinister. There was no doubt that Cliffside’s ghosts were ticked off.

Yet another of Paul’s recollections took place in the infa-

mous dining room. Paul had recently been on a trip to Mel-

bourne, during which he managed to indulge his love of

antique shops and collectibles. Whilst scouring through some

old memorabilia, he chanced upon an old 78 record and was

instantly drawn to it. It was an original recording of When Cliffside 215

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, in amazingly good condition. Paul immediately thought of the young man who had killed himself in his dining room some forty years earlier, this very song playing in the background.

The significance of chancing upon the old recording on the

other side of the country wasn’t lost on Paul, who wasted no

time in securing his purchase. Actually listening to it though was another matter, somehow it just didn’t feel right. So the

record sat silently in the cupboard with a pile of other 78’s, waiting to be played.

It was some time later that the family decided to have a

little party; just the four of them, the old gramophone and

their stash of 78 records. Their joviality was soon to come to an abrupt end, as Paul went to retrieve the 78’s from the cupboard.

There amongst the pile of records, one of them had inex-

plicably shattered into countless tiny pieces. Without even

looking at its cover, Paul knew which record it was straight

away. Smoke Gets In Your Eyes was never to be played in that room again, the ghosts had made sure of it. Not surprisingly, all the other records had remained intact.

Over the years the ghosts continued to announce their

presence, usually benignly but sometimes dramatically. One

visitor remarked upon the old woman who was sitting on the

front porch upon his arrival, and wondered why she had got-

ten up and silently walked into the house when he approached.

Another asked about the silent man who seemed to be trailing

his friend throughout the homestead. There were of course

no old woman or young man staying in the house at the time,

prompting those present to presume the ghosts were visiting

once again.

216Cliffside

Given the homestead’s tragic history, it was likely that the

ghosts were unable to find peace. It seemed that they were

trapped by the intense emotions they had endured there in

life, or perhaps they couldn’t come to terms with the fact that they were dead and that Cliffside was no longer their home.

There was too much grief imbedded in its ether; they were

earthbound and unable to move on.

The Websters felt that they needed to help the trapped

souls cross over, as much for the ghosts’ sakes as for restoring peace in their home.

They arranged for a priest to make the trek from East

Fremantle, to cleanse their home and offer mass for each of

Cliffside’s lost souls. The family began to view the ghosts as spirits who needed help, rather than as entities who wanted to frighten them. As they prayed for the salvation of their souls, the atmosphere at Cliffside began to progressively lift.

Paul and his family are convinced that Cliffside’s ghosts

eventually moved on, as the last two years that they lived

there were uneventful. These days it’s billed as an idyllic country retreat, a peaceful escape from the rigours of city living.

As well as rooms in the main house (named after the original

family members who lived there) there are small cottages on

the property which are available for those who would like to

stay.

As Paul’s appointment concluded, I was struck by how

the most incredible of stories can spring up seemingly out of nowhere; and how the amazing lies just beyond the expected

and the mundane. I am also becoming increasingly aware of

how abundant true ghost stories are; perhaps as abundant as

the ghosts themselves.

Cliffside 217

Just before he left, Paul suggested I take myself off to Cliffside, as I would no doubt appreciate its grandeur and beauty.

His suggestion of staying overnight initially made me shud-

der; whilst the brave, investigative part of me thought What a great idea!

I couldn’t help wondering if any of the old ghosts still

check in from time to time,

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