This week, we finally managed to install our new (not new ) item of furniture - a mid-18th Century grandfather clock. It's not bright and shiny like more modern ones, but a dark oak with a warm patina which the beeswax polish is drawing out. In order to set it up, we had to do a certain amount of research - how to hang the pendulum, where the weight went on the endless chain - and it got me thinking... where and when did certain divisions of time come from? The time periods which I have written either had household clocks or didn't, I have not written novels from the time of their invention. Clocks have been around for a long time, and the obsession with measuring time in an ordered fashion dates back to at least the ancient Sumerians. It was they who established a circular reading of time and, I imagine, the sixty seconds/minutes came about as much because it was an easy way to divide a circle as anything else. But it wasn't until much later that the precision of seconds ...
One of the problems – or, perhaps, the best things – about Gothic Horror is that it does tend to be sad. Usually, there are at least one or two characters who don’t deserve whatever is happening to them, or who have done something which is being punished in a way which does not in any way fit the crime. M.R. James’s writing is perhaps a constant reiteration of the old proverb, “curiosity killed the cat”, but curiosity in itself isn’t a bad thing; while Jonathan Harker in Bram Stoker’s Dracula finds himself in the initial dangerous situation through no fault of his own.
Perhaps the saddest story in this anthology is The Lady Who Dances in the Ashes, which was first published by Sley House in Tales of Sley House 2022. Here is the story of a man who is facing professional and financial ruin as a result of suggesting that mental health patients can be treated in the community rather than institutionalised. He is one of the most sympathetic narrators you will find in the book, but he badly misjudges a situation which leads to tragedy.
As well as being the most tragic stories in the book, it is also the most akin to M.R. James’s writing. A truly malevolent ghost, bent on revenge for something which happened hundreds of years ago, seeks out to punish those who live beneath a specific roof. It does not matter that they are not the same people against whom they swore revenge. This is something I find genuinely terrifying in the supernatural: that a person could be targeted through no fault of their own by a presence which is too strong for them to overcome. I blame the story The Demon Dog for the fear I feel in this regard: the baby had done nothing wrong, people! It was just a baby!
When you have a story where the innocent are being targeted, you have this constant sense of dread – as though it does not matter what you do, terrible things are still going to happen. Hedgwick Grange came from this idea: a place where even the innocent can suffer for the sins of those who have lived in the house before. It was a setting which I enjoyed creating: even more remote than Broughley Abbey and with a gloriously sinister history. I am a firm believer that setting is the most important foundation stone for a Gothic Horror story. Once you have the setting, the people who live in and visit the house will soon make themselves known to you.
[You can find Judith's other blogs in this series here]
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