The Pluckley Psychic Historical Society

A haunted Kent village, a newly formed paranormal society, a scholar, a white witch, a famous medium, and a ghost with the poor manners to pretend he is alive. That is the wickedly appealing set-up behind the first installment of The Ghost from the Molly House series.

Set in 1919, just after the First World War, the book introduces the Pluckley Psychic Historical Society, a small group formed to investigate the mysteries that history cannot explain. Their base is Pluckley, Kent, widely known as one of England’s most haunted villages. The setting does half the work before anyone opens a cursed relic or reads from a forbidden book.

Then Jasper Claxton arrives, or more accurately, lingers. Jasper is an 18th-century super-ghost who can move through time, help with events, and deliver mischief with a smile. The twist is simple and perfect: the living members of the society do not know he is dead.

That single secret gives the whole story its comic spark. The cases may involve ancient powers, dangerous objects, but at the centre sits a ghost who knows more than he should, says less than he could, and enjoys the confusion far too much.

Pluckley makes the perfect stage for a society built around ghosts, folklore, and secrets.

A haunted village makes the perfect beginning

Pluckley is not just a backdrop. It gives the story a ready-made charge. A village with a reputation for hauntings invites rumour, local memory, half-forgotten tragedy, and the kind of silence that follows people down country lanes.

That matters because this is not a modern paranormal thriller with gadgets and cold readings. It is a period mystery built on archives, séances, folklore, instinct, and old houses with long memories. The society’s investigations grow from the place itself. Gardens, relics, ruins, sealed books, and local legends all carry weight.

The year 1919 adds another layer. Britain is emerging from the devastation of the First World War. Grief is everywhere. Families have lost sons, husbands, brothers, and friends. Spiritualism has a strong cultural pull because people want proof that death is not the end. In that setting, a psychic historical society feels less like an eccentric hobby and more like a very human response to loss.

That is one reason the premise works so well. The supernatural is playful, but the emotional ground beneath it is serious. The living characters are drawn towards the unknown because the known world has failed to provide comfort.

The book sits in a pleasing space between several traditions:

• Cosy mystery, because the investigations centre on clues, character, and atmosphere rather than grim violence.

• Historical intrigue, because the past is not decoration. It is the engine of the plot.

• Supernatural adventure, because ghosts, witches, relics, and spells are real forces in the story.

• Gothic comedy, because Jasper Claxton brings wit, cheek, and theatrical timing to the shadows.

  
  

That mixture gives the series its charm. It can raise the dead and still raise a smile.

The society is built on an unlikely trio

The Pluckley Psychic Historical Society begins with three founders who bring very different skills to the same strange table.

Winston Hatherton is the intellectual force. A Cambridge scholar and historian, he approaches mystery through evidence, documents, dates, and patterns. He gives the society method. In a story full of spirits and spells, Winston matters because he keeps one foot on solid ground.

Florence Dearden brings power of another kind. As a white witch, she understands hidden forces that do not fit neatly into academic footnotes. She knows that objects can carry influence, places can hold pain, and old magic rarely stays buried out of politeness.

Jocasta Bradman completes the trio as a celebrated medium. Her gift connects the society to the dead, or at least to those who are willing to speak. She brings performance, sensitivity, and danger. A medium in this world is not merely someone who relays messages. Jocasta stands at the threshold and listens when others cannot.

Together, they make a balanced team. Winston looks to the past for clues. Florence asks what power remains. Jocasta asks who is still present.

Then there is Jasper Claxton.

Jasper is not a founder, at least not in the official sense. He assists from the shadows, which suits him beautifully. As an 18th-century super-ghost, he carries his own history, his own secrets, and a perspective that the living characters cannot match. Time is stranger for him. Death is not an ending.

His hidden identity is more than a joke. It changes the dynamic of every scene he enters. The reader knows what the society does not. That creates dramatic irony, but it also raises a question.

How much of history has he nudged already?

The answer, one suspects, is quite a lot.

Jasper Claxton gives the book its wicked pulse

A ghost who does not know he is dead would be tragic. A ghost who knows perfectly well and lets everyone else remain confused is comedy with sharp teeth.

Jasper Claxton sounds like the kind of character who can steal a scene without moving a chair. He has the advantage of experience, the freedom of the dead, and the timing of someone who has watched generations make the same mistakes. He is not merely a spectral assistant. He is a guide with a foot in several centuries.

The phrase “super-ghost” is useful because it points to something larger than the standard haunted-house figure. Jasper is not confined to moaning in corridors or rattling chains after midnight. He can travel through time. He can intervene. He can understand history because he has seen history from strange angles.

That makes him especially useful in a series built on old mysteries. A historian can read the record. A ghost may remember the parts no one wrote down.

Still, Jasper’s humour keeps him from becoming too convenient. As a time-travelling spirit, he doesn't know everything, and he learns from the others.

His secrecy also gives the book a neat emotional edge. The society investigates ghosts while sitting beside one. They study the dead without realising death is actively helping them. It is a delicious premise because it makes every conversation slightly unstable.

A polite remark may hide centuries of knowledge.

A joke may be a warning.

A casual suggestion may alter the course of a case.

In a cosy mystery, personality matters as much as plot. Jasper gives the series a voice that can move from eerie to irreverent in a single line.

The Jewellery Box turns a relic into a threat

The first official case, The Jewellery Box, begins with a classic mystery object: a 16th-century relic unearthed in the garden of a historic house. That is exactly the sort of discovery that feels harmless for about five minutes.

A jewellery box is intimate. It suggests vanity, inheritance, courtship, secrets, or betrayal. Unlike a weapon or a grimoire, it does not announce danger. It can sit quietly on a table while everyone projects their own assumptions onto it.

That makes it a fine object for a historical mystery. Who owned it? Why was it buried? What was hidden inside it, or hidden because of it? How does something lost for four centuries still have the power to harm?

The case promises a 400-year-old secret, which places the roots of the mystery in the 16th century. In England, that period carries heavy historical associations: religious upheaval, dangerous loyalties, courtly intrigue, and fear of witchcraft. A relic from that era can plausibly carry more than sentimental value. It may be evidence. It may be a warning. It may be bait.

For the society, this is an ideal first test. Winston can follow the historical trail. Florence can sense the magical residue. Jocasta can reach towards voices attached to the object. Jasper, of course, may already know more than he admits.

The best relic mysteries work because the object is both clue and character. This jewellery box seems designed to do just that. It draws the team into the past, but it also threatens the present. Buried things are rarely grateful when dug up.

A small relic can open a much larger door into danger.

The Book of Souls widens the danger

The second case, The Book of Souls, moves the action north to Castle Hill in Huddersfield. That shift gives the volume a wider sense of scale. The society is not simply responding to oddities in Pluckley. Its work can pull it towards older places, stranger histories, and darker powers.

Castle Hill is a powerful choice of setting. It is associated with ancient settlement, and the brief points to 4,000 years of human presence. A place like that feels layered before a single spell is spoken. Generations have lived, worshipped, fought, buried, remembered, and forgotten there.

A forbidden book of spells is a different kind of danger from a buried jewellery box. A box hides. A book invites. It asks to be opened, read, interpreted, and misused. That makes it especially dangerous in a story where scholarship and curiosity drive the characters forward.

A historian wants to understand a text.

A witch wants to know the nature of the magic.

A medium may sense the souls bound to it.

A ghost may recognise the cost of disturbing it.

The title The Book of Souls suggests that this is not a mere spell manual. It implies trapped spirits, bargains, names, or a record of the dead. When the opening of the book unleashes an ancient threat, the case shifts from investigation to containment. The society must not only solve what has happened. It must stop what has begun.

The mention of ancient Celtic witches gives the supernatural mythology a deep-rooted feel. These are not decorative villains in pointed hats. The phrase suggests something older, ritualistic, and tied to land, burial, and survival. Their possible rising raises the stakes beyond one household or one family secret.

That contrast between the two cases is smart. The Jewellery Box draws the reader into a contained historical secret. The Book of Souls opens the world and shows what the society may have to face in future volumes.

Why the 1919 setting gives the story extra bite

The immediate post-war period is rich ground for ghost stories because the boundary between public life and private grief feels thin. In 1919, countless people were trying to return to ordinary routines while carrying extraordinary loss.

A psychic society in that year is not just quirky. It reflects the questions of the age. What remains after death? Can the living reach the dead? Is memory enough? What if the dead are not silent at all?

The period detail also supports the cosy tone. Candlelit rooms, old trains, handwritten letters, country houses, village gossip, and weathered ruins all suit mysteries that unfold through conversation and atmosphere. The pace can be suspenseful without feeling frantic.

The humour matters too. After war and grief, Jasper’s wickedness brings lightness without making the danger silly. That balance is hard to get right, but it is exactly what many readers want from supernatural cosy fiction. They want shivers, not despair. They want peril, but they also want companionship.

The book’s central pleasure lies in the gap between what the society thinks it is investigating and what the reader knows is already in the room. Jasper Claxton is the kind of character who can turn exposition into entertainment and danger into theatre. His presence makes the title’s joke land again and again. The ghost is not dead, at least not in the way the living understand it.

That is the hook that gives the series room to grow. If the first volume includes a 16th-century relic, a 4,000-year-old settlement, a forbidden book, and ancient witches stirring beneath the surface, future cases could go almost anywhere in British folklore and history.

A first volume with inviting shadows

The Pluckley Psychic Historical Society and the Ghost Who Isnt Dead has all the makings of a highly readable supernatural mystery: a memorable setting, a strong central team, two distinct cases, and a ghostly trickster who may be helper, nuisance, witness, and wild card all at once.

The result is a story built for readers who like history with hidden doors. It treats the past as alive, sometimes literally, and makes the act of investigation feel like trespassing on ground that remembers every footstep.

The best part is the promise tucked inside the premise. The society has only just begun. Its members do not know the full truth about Jasper. Ancient forces are already stirring. Somewhere between Pluckley and Castle Hill, the dead are talking, the witches are watching, and one highly amused ghost is making sure the living keep up.

www.grahamepeaceauthor.com