December 21st 1901

Hello Mammy,

It’s with great sadness that I write to tell you I will not be making it back home for Christmas. It sounds like it is going to be quite a feast and the largest O’Donnell reunion in years. I have even heard that Father has sent a young man over from Argentina in proxy – that must be nice for you, Mammy. Please pass on my apologies to all, I am most disappointed that I will not get to see my new nephew. Do give Drusilla and her husband my warmest congratulations. And how is Titus? Has he grown out of eating flowers?

I ask for your strictest confidence as I tell you my reasons why. I know you brought me up to believe the affairs of men are best left to other men, such as my Uncle Seamus and my younger brothers, Claudius and Galba, but I couldn’t help get involved in this matter.

It began when I was traveling down from Leeds to London and was entertaining a fellow passenger with the time I was on a whaling ship. I told him how I had made the faux pas of bringing brandy instead of rum onto the ship. I cried, “What could possibly be worse?” The fellow sitting opposite me shouted out, “What rot!” Well, I was a little taken back and asked him to explain himself, and by the end of his speech I had to admit that the wrong choice of spirit on a whaling ship was a rather trivial matter.

You see, he explained to me there were some boys and girls who have no mammy and daddies, and they live in this rather sad-looking building. I know this, for when we alighted at Kings Cross he invited me to come and see it with my own eyes. I was most shocked at what I saw, for their accommodation was somewhat basic and a bit rough around the edges. The gentleman from the train explained to me that they relied on charity and really had to work hard to stretch every penny. He also added that he was lobbying Parliament to change this, and that night at my club I ruddy well gave my MP a good clump around the ear. I am also pleased to say that my club now has a swear box set up, with the proceeds going to the orphanage – we have raised the extraordinary sum of twenty pounds so far.

Mammy, I do need to make a confession to you. I have to admit I have been going to the square church as I have been helping out every Sunday at the orphanage, and that is their faith. I’ve been teaching them to play rugby, entertaining them with my tales, and I have tried to get them excited by Ceaser’s Commentarii de Bello Gallico. But we need to make a few more nursery steps first. In the meantime, Hans Christian Anderson seems to be the biggest hoot!

I spoke to Father Kelly about going to the other church and he said Jesus wouldn’t mind in this case – I hope you don’t either, Mammy.

What most got me, though, was Christmas was going to be a most sad affair for them. No presents, no turkey and not even brandy and mince pies. There weren’t even the funds to put up a tree. Well, you know me, Mammy, and I don’t like to be sad.

Again, in the interests of subterfuge, I ask you to keep this to yourself. Even my household staff do not know – which reminds me… I told my cook that there was a bird shortage in Ireland this year, and had him cook up eight large turkeys. I would be most grateful if you could keep up this pretense when you come to visit in the spring.

My man is aware of one disappearing on Sunday mornings, but as far as he is aware I am playing rugby – in which I have the misfortune of constantly losing my balls. I also told him (hee he he!) that I read in The London Paper of pirates in the Irish Sea, and to buy two lots of Christmas presents for all my nephews and nieces, just in case, which amazingly is the same number of orphans – fancy that!

I will leave my house just as if I was coming to you, but I have booked into an hotel in Holyhead, and instead of catching the ferry, I will turn back to London the very next day. I have come up with the cover story that my name is Edward Book, a Latin expert who is on his way to the British Museum to decipher some urgent relics.

Whilst the kids are at the chapel on Christmas morning, I will be busy back at the orphanage setting up the Christmas tree and organising the kitchen, and when they return they are in for a huge surprise. I have also managed to procure a piano, and I intend to give them a riot of a Christmas with enough Christmas pudding to sink the Cutty Sark.

I ask for your secrecy, as I have become known in London circles as something of a debonair cavalier adventurer type, and I feel some might think this sort of thing to be a bit soft. If the family ask, I am in Russia hunting bears.

I will not be alone over the rest of the period as my good friend, Hans, is coming over from Berlin – he has written a play about a young boy in an ancient Greek gymnasium which he wants to show me. I will be at Galba and his wife’s for Boxing Day (they are in on the plan, it was Galba’s idea re the swear box).

Lots of love

Tibs

PS. Please can you telegram my chum, Peter, to put him straight. He does not believe me when I told him that Aunt Ruth has had the same stew on the hob for thirty years.

How wonderful to see you at the races, Duchess Bloemfontein, Ladies.

Oh I had a bit of trouble at the gate, seems my invitation to the enclosure must have got lost in the post this year.

No, one of the three things I promised my mammy I would never do:

1) Never trust a man from Tramore
2) Never fight for the English
3) Never bet on the Horses

I’m here because I think they are such magnificent animals -  oh I say free champagne, how superb!

You’re right, our new King does seem a little nervous over there, how long has it been now ?

Do not joke about contacting the dead Ladies, have I ever told you about my dabble with the occult ?

Well, it was in January this year. I had gone to visit my second youngest brother Galba in Hammersmith, who has a very important job in a bank you know.  When I arrived on his doorstep It turned out he was away on business, but his dear wife Nellie, being a most kind and considerate soul, invited me in to join her and the friends who she was entertaining that evening.

It was a delightfully gay affair, the younger Mr. Stockton was there  – Charles , who I am told is of the theatre persuasion, but did not seem that interested when I told him about the time I trod the boards as Agamemon in Oresteia – in the original Greek I might add.

Captain Phillip Cavendish and his lady friend Nina were also there and Nellie’s old school chum Bertha. Nellie and my brother had only moved into this house a few months ago, and there had been some strange goings on, which the servants could not be held accountable for.  Plates had fallen off shelves and chairs that had been pushed in, had mysteriously become… un-pushed in. This could only mean one thing – a ghost.

Nellie and her friends were going to make an attempt to contact the spirit world and they asked me to join them.

We sat around the card table and Bertha laid out an Ouija board. I have come across this device several times on my travels and I asked Bertha whether she was qualified in communicating with the dead. Turns out she had spent the last four years living in France, with the French – that was good enough for me.

Nellie’s housemaid dimmed the gas lights in the room and a single candle on the card table was lit. Bertha then told us we were free to greet the spirits

“What Ho!” I bellowed.

I am now informed this was not the correct way. Bertha asked for silence and told us all to put our hands on the planchette and she continued.

“Something lingers in the room around us.”

I was deeply embarrassed and apologized profusely. Bertha restarted.

“Hear me, hear me spirits – is there anybody there…” , lo and behold the planchette began to move.

Q…U…I…D…

The Latin for who, I was most glad to see we were dealing with an educated  ghost, otherwise it would not of have been in keeping with the area.  The puck moved again , this time

Quid Dicit! – Latin for “who speaks?”. I immediately called out “It is my good brother’s wife’s friend Bertha who calls on you “.  Bertha looked at me, and again I felt this might not be the correct manner. After a moment, Bertha looked up at the ceiling and said.

“And who is it we are speaking too ?

Y….D…X…Y…

The planchette was all over the place and there was a sudden yelp from Nina; the maid instantly turned up the lights.  We all looked at Nina who looked slightly flushed and the top buttons on her dress had come undone. I advised the Captain that our ghost friend may not be a gentleman and he assured me that he would be on his guard. The lights were once again dimmed and Bertha suggested that now we had made contact, we could do away with the board and attempt to speak to the spirits directly.

Bertha asked us all to link our hands in a circle and then she called out

“Spirit, give us a sign that you are still there.”

Barely before Bertha had finished her sentence, Nina let out another yelp and the lights came up.  I suggested to Captain Phillip that it might be an idea to take Nina upstairs, so that she may lie down. The Captain fully agreed and carried this out with some haste. The remaining four of us then rejoined hands, the maid dimmed the lights and Bertha resumed.

“Oh spirit, give us a sign ”

Silence. I looked around the others at the table and they looked at me. I was just about to suggest that Bertha might need to speak up, when the silence was interrupted by a rhythmic creaking noise coming from above, and then the most bizarre thing occurred. Bertha, Nellie, Charles and even the maid all burst out in a fit of the giggles.

I feared that they had been overcome by madness, I remembered what my priest had told me about such matters: they had become possessed. I stood up and said in my loudest voice:

“My name Is Tiberius Patricus O’Donnell. You may have put the willies into them, but I am not afraid of you! Go from whence you came and leave this house alone. Begone!”

The creaking began to speed up, I had obviously rattled its cage.

“Begone! Begone!” I bellowed.

The creaking then seemed to reach a climax and then – silence. I instructed the maid to turn up the lights. I was pleased to see that everything was tickety boo. When the Captain and Nina eventually returned you could tell they had been ruffled by the affair but were thankfully okay.  It was then brandies all round.

So you see ladies, contacting the dead is no laughing matter.