THE WHISPERING TOWER

[Note from the author]

This story was written seven years ago, hence the references to years ending with an 8, hope that doesn't stop you from you enjoying it..


Set just before, during and after the second world war, this is the tragic tale of two childhood sweethearts. 

Who upon kissing for the first time, realise there is a bond between them which can never ever be broken and in Mary and Stanley’s case, the tender love shared between them will indeed last for all eternity.

THE WHISPERING TOWER

Hartshead pike stands on a place called Hartshead hill and at 940ft above sea level is quite an imposing sight to say the least.

The original reason for this tower to exist was primarily a watch beacon, particularly during the threat of Spanish invasion in 1558 and again of course during the Napoleonic wars of 1799 to 1803.

The next major alert after that, was the outbreak of the Second World War and this dear reader is where we start the tragic tale of Stanley Jones and Mary White.

****

Stanley had known Mary nearly all his life and if ever there was a case for childhood sweethearts this was it.

Even as small kids in the All Saints Church of England infants school, Mary and Stanley were always together and if anyone were to ask were either of them were, then usually if you found Stanley, you found Mary and vice versa.

The bond gradually grew stronger over the coming years, even through secondary school, which was segregated.

Ashton grammar school consisted of two entrances; one for boys and the other for the girls and as such for most of the time the two genders were educated on a separate basis. 

However this didn’t stop the then two pals as they were at this time from seeing each other at every given opportunity. 

Which at school was a perilous undertaking and if caught, meant a swift and usually painful excursion to the headmasters study.

Weekends and holidays were totally different of course. Mary’s parents owned a small sweetshop situated inside Hartshead pike and during out of school hours, she and Stanley would work or help out in the shop. 

This involved a variety of tasks, serving, stocking the shelves and cleaning anything basically that needed cleaning. 

Mary’s family were a fastidious bunch and this reflected on the nature of most of the tasks at the shop.

The one job that Mary and Stanley did enjoy though and was almost as rewarding as the shiny new sixpence they were paid every Saturday, was the refilling of the sweetie jars.

This particular task “always” took longer than it should have done, for obvious reasons and if you’ve ever heard of the saying, “like kids in a toffee shop,” you’ll know what I mean.

This ritual of seeing each other and the work in the shop carried on, on a regular basis and as the years rolled by, the bond between the two ever tightened and what was once just childhood friendship turned into what I suppose you could call a teenage romance.

And it was only a matter of time before that pivotal earth shattering moment between opposite genders “the first serious kiss” came.


Christmas day 1938 and both Mary and Stanley, after having eaten a hearty Christmas lunch with the rest of the family, were assigned to the kitchen to negotiate the mountain of pots and pans.

Armed with scrubbing brushes and lashings of hot water they gamefully attacked roasting tins, pudding boilers, plates, and enough cutlery to make a small battleship.

All through this exercise both Mary and Stanley kept glancing at each other and in between the clanging of pans and trays there was also the sound of bashful teenage giggling.

As soon as operation clean up was complete, the two giddy teenagers left Mary’s house on Stockport road and set off toward Hartshead pike.

Mary’s mother red the riot act on not being out too late, “it’ll soon be dark” and all that and as soon as they had departed she glanced across to Mary’s father. Who was chuffing contentedly on an ounce of Royal Navy flake and listening to Tommy Dorsey and his orchestra.

Edith, Mary’s mum stroked her cheek and said, “what ever is going on with those two Ted?” 

Ted carried on chuffing away on his pipe for a few more seconds and then extracted it and replied. “They’re falling in love, that’s what’s going on,” the pipe returned and the chuffing restarted. Edith looked stricken and cried, “in love, in love? They’re still only children, I’m telling you, kids today.” With that she threw her arms up in the air and scuttled off into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

Mary and Stanley walked hand in hand up Broadcarr lane laughing and making small talk. 

The weather was quite nippy and overcast and as the two teenage lovebirds approached the pike, delicate little snowflakes began to fall like miniscule feathers of ice.

This prompted Mary to squeal as if she had never seen the white stuff. “I knew it would be a white Christmas, I just knew it,” she cried excitedly and started dancing a jig. 

As Stanley was still attached to Mary’s hand, he was yanked around and though involuntary, it brought a smile to his face when he saw Mary happy so he joined in the frivolity.

So there they were, on a Christmas day afternoon atop of Hartshead hill just in front of the pike dancing around in the now steadily descending snow.

They eventually stopped and both Mary and Stanley stood in front of each other as if they were waiting for something.

It was at this point at 4pm exactly; on Christmas day 1938 that Mary White kissed Stanley Jones for the first time ever and the only witness to this momentous event was the forlorn looking pike looming out of the background.

After they had stopped kissing, Mary drew Stanley even closer to her bosom and whispered, “I love you Stanley Jones and I never want this moment to end.” 

Stanley dusted snow off Mary’s headscarf and replied, “I love you too Mary White, but if we don’t get off home right away, we’ll be spending the night in there.”

He pointed towards the huge tower in front of them. “Not on your Nelly,” cried Mary, “I bet its haunted” and with that the two laughing teenagers scrambled down the hill slipping and sliding and pelting each other with snowballs in the newly fallen snow.

***

May 1939 and war clouds were gathering in Europe.

The German war machine was already flexing its muscles and most people knew it would only be a matter of time before Britain got involved. 

 Which would mean of course conscription for all able bodied men under the military training act of 1939. Mary was well aware of this and feared terribly for her newly betrothed Stanley Jones.

Exactly four months after that pivotal first kiss, Stanley had gotten down on one knee in the same spot and asked Mary White for her hand in marriage. 

Well, Mary was so overcome she threw herself at Stanley whilst he was still in the kneeling position. Consequently the future Mr and Mrs Jones tumbled over and rolled about twenty feet down a small hillock in front of the pike, a dry stone wall painfully halted any further progress.

Stanley quickly held Mary’s face close to his and in a concerned manner said, “are you all right Mary?”

Mary looked back at Stanley and replied, “Yes.”

“Thank God for that,” said a relieved Stanley. 

Mary playfully slapped him round the head then Stanley winced and said, “ouch,” what was that for?”

“I said “yes” you fool, yes- yes- YES.”

Then the penny dropped and Stanley screamed out and punched the air in delight. He then lifted his soon to be wife up and as quick as you like threw Mary over his shoulder fireman’s lift style. 

After he had carried a screaming and giggling Mary back up the hill to where they were before, Stanley gently placed his true love back on terra firma.

****

It was a gorgeous sunny Sunday afternoon in May and Mary and Stanley had just finished up in the sweet shop. 

They were both sat on the grass in front of the pike casually plucking daffodils out of the ground when Mary said, “when do you go?”
“The end of this month,” replied Stanley.
“Do you know where?” Asked Mary again.
“Yes; Barton airfield on the other side of Manchester, near a place called Eccles,” again replied Stanley,
“For how long?” Said a now tearful Mary.
“That depends on the house painter darling and if I were a betting man I would say that it’s not going to be long before we’re at war with them.”

Stanley Jones was right; on the 3rd of September 1939 Britain declared war on Nazi Germany and by this time Stanley was already into the early stages of training to fly spitfires. 

 Just before Christmas 1940, Stanley Jones gained his wings and returned home on leave to marry his childhood sweet heart, that was postponed a year previously because of his enlistment into the RAF. 

Mary and Stanley finally tied the knot on Christmas Eve and the occasion took place at St George’s church on Stamford St Mossley.

Both sets of all the family were present and members of Stanley’s squadron that weren’t on active duty were also present.

There was no honeymoon of course and even if the Battle of Britain had officially ended on the 31st of October, more and more spit fire squadrons were being transferred from the north to the southern counties to protect the Capital and bolster the depleted forces that were involved in that famous air battle.

After the church ceremony Mary and Stanley snuck off to their favourite spot, their special place as they both called it. 

They both embraced each other again just like they did on that first occasion two years ago and Mary looked into Stanley’s eyes and said. “Well Mr Jones?” Stanley returned the gaze and replied, “well Mrs Jones?” And then they kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed again.

When they both finally stopped for breath, Mary said, “promise me one thing Mr Jones?”
“I’ll try Mrs Jones,” replied Stanley, Mary carried on. “Before you fly south little bird don’t you forget to wave goodbye.” 

Stanley was just about to reply when Mary placed a finger to his lips, then said “and another thing Stanley Jones.” At this point tears were streaming down Mary’s cheeks. “If anything were to happen to my Stanley, then” and Mary looked back at the still looming almost forlorn form of Hartshead pike in front of them. “Then this,” Mary brushed the tears from her face and Stanley again attempted to speak and again Mary placed the same finger to his lips and said. “This, my love, will always be our own special, special place and whatever happens my brave, brave, darling Stanley, whatever happens, this is where I will always wait for you.”
“Always?” Said Stanley trying very hard not to be emotional.
“For eternity,” said Mary. 

 As she said those words she reached out and placed her left hand, wedding ring visibly showing onto the cold stone of the pike itself. Mary then gently took Stanley’s ring hand and again gently placed his hand on top of hers.

Mary then leaned forward and tenderly kissed her husband on the lips and whispered, “for eternity.”

They both celebrated and made the most of what precious little time they had left and on the 27th of December Stanley rejoined his squadron at Barton airfield.

Mary hadn’t joined any of the military services for medical reasons, but she contributed in local activities such as helping to construct shelters and assist the local ARP in supervising blackout compliancy. When she wasn’t involved in that, Mary was at the shop helping out as per usual.

Three days after Stanley had left for Barton, Mary was serving some local kids in the shop when she heard the faint roar of what sounded like aircraft engines.

The kids stopped what they were doing and en mass scampered out of the shop swiftly followed by Mary.

Everyone put their hands over their eyes and strained to see what was going on. 

“Are they ours?” Said a concerned elderly lady.

One of the kids cried, “I’ll bet they’re Messerschmitt 109s.”

“No chance” said another one of the other kids, “they’re Hurricanes.”

Mary Jones beamed. “She” knew what they were and silently mouthed the words, “my darling Stanley I knew you wouldn’t forget.”

Flying in V formation roughly from the direction of Manchester and getting closer by the second, was a squadron of Supermarine Spitfires.

As they neared, the roar of the Rolls Royce Merlin engines completely drowned out the cries of the excited onlookers and there was now no mistaking they also now knew what these Aircraft were. 

Who didn’t, even at this stage of the war the spitfire had acquired legend status and the pilots were regarded as superheroes of the time.

As the aircraft thundered over the pike, the formation arced over Buckton Castle then returned back over the pike, much to the delight of the now gathering crowd of onlookers.

The squadron of spits then headed back towards Manchester, however one of the aircraft peeled off the main pack and headed back towards the pike and Mary.

The lone spitfire flew extremely fast and low, indeed it must have only been a hundred feet off the ground and just as everyone was starting to get worried, it shot up directly in front of them, straight up like a rocket, spinning slowly as it did so.
As the spit reached its zenith it then came back round, loop the loop fashion, there were loads of oooos and ahaaas from the crowd.

As the spitfire came round one final time, it came so low that Mary could quite clearly see her husband Stanley in the cockpit. Leather flying jacket, goggles and all and in that split second moment, Mary saw Stanley blow her a kiss. 

The warplane streaked passed and gave a long languid waggle of its wings.
Mary, on her knees was now crying openly and returned the kiss, as she did so, she mouthed the words. “Come back safe, my darling love, please, please come back” and as the lone spitfire disappeared into a speck on the horizon, Mary never saw her husband again, alive that is!!


Two months later on a grey Sunday morning in February, Mary Jones on hearing a rat a tat tat on her parents door saw the tell tale shape of a cloaked Police Constable. 

Standing beside him was something Mary never ever wanted to see, a uniformed RAF officer with a serious expression.

Both men looked decidedly uncomfortable and it was the RAF man that spoke first. “Mrs Mary Jones?” Mary didn’t say anything she just stared into space as if she’d been hypnotised. 

“Errm, you are Mrs Mary Jones?” Repeated the RAF officer. 

Mary whispered the word “yes” and then it was the constable’s turn to speak, he lowered his head and said. “I’m afraid I have some terrible news Mrs Jones,” 

Mary interrupted the constable and said, “where and how?”

The RAF officer spoke again this time and said. “It was over the channel Miss, squadron leader Jones was chasing some stray German bombers and he got separated from the rest of his squadron and” the RAF man paused. “He was intercepted by a squadron of 109s and” another pause. “He was shot down and killed, unfortunately we haven’t yet been able to recover any remains, I’m so very sorry for your loss Mrs Jones.” And with that the two bringers of bad news respectfully departed.

****

The weeks rolled by, then the months and every day without fail, Mary Jones would stand outside of the pike and in the same spot where she kissed her beloved for the first time in what seemed like an eternity ago.

And every single day, Mary would put her hand over her eyes, searching for that lone spitfire which she truly believed was still out there, somewhere.

Christmas day 1942. Mary Jones was found hanging by the neck from an overhead beam in the sweetshop inside Hartshead pike.

In her dress pocket was a short scrawled suicide note with the words. “The first kiss is always so very special my darling, but the last kiss will be for eternity.”

Mary was buried a week later in the same church grounds she and Stanley were married.

****

It wasn’t until six years later that the first sightings were reported!!

Old Jack Crowther had a farm just in front of the pike and it was immediately after Christmas lunch in 1948 that he remarked to his wife that the weather was turning for the worst and he’d better get the cows inside.

Jack then donned his duffle coat and prepared to face the elements.

As he opened the door to the farm house, an icy blast hit Jack in the face and he cried, “Bloody Nora, stick another log on the fire Ida,” (Mrs Crowther) “its going to be a bad’n.” And with that he ventured out into the what had now become a raging blizzard.

As Jack approached the field where the cows were, he glanced up at the stark image of the Pike and just as he was about to carry on he looked again at the Pike. “Wait a minute, what the,” someone was up there.

He threw back the hood of his duffle coat to get a better view and sure enough, there really was someone up there, in fact Jack realised now it was two figures that were stood in front of the pike.

Fools what the hell did they think they were doing up there exposed to this kind of weather? As soon Jack had herded the cows into the shed, he trudged towards the Pike to admonish the two idiots that were out in this horrible weather.

“I’ll bet they’re kids,” he muttered under his breath, “having me walking all this way in this filthy weather I’ll give em a piece of my mind I will.”

As soon as Jack got near to the Pike he shouted at the top of his voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you’ll freeze to death?”

However it was poor Jack Crowther that froze, only it wasn’t the blizzard that froze Jack to the bone, it was the sight in front of him. 

 “Holy mother of Mary,” Jack cried. 

There, what must have only been twenty feet away give or take and as large as life were Mary and Stanley Jones!!

Jack Crowther swiftly crossed himself and did next what comes naturally to most human beings that encounter something what is most definitely “unnatural.” “they run.”


And did Jack run, he was seventy five years young, but Jack Crowther cleared a dry stone wall with all the athletic ability of an Olympic hurdler.

He entered the house and slammed the door shut behind him as if he were being chased by a very large grizzly bear. 

“Is that you Jack?” Shouted Ida, 

Jack didn’t reply, he couldn’t, he was a third of the way through a quart bottle of Bells Whiskey when his wife snatched it away from him as if were drinking some deadly poison.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Jack Crowther?” It was then that Ida realized Jack was shaking and then he began to weep freely.

“Oh my god Jack, whatever’s the matter, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?” 

At those words Jack grabbed back for the whiskey in a sort of pawing motion. 

“No Jack, now tell me what’s going on? cried Ida,

“Two” panted Jack, “not one, two.”

“Two what?” asked Ida, she had been married to Jack for forty years and never seen him like this.

After calming down and the promise of more whiskey, Jack recounted to his disbelieving wife of what he had just witnessed out on the Pike.

****

This sighting was the first of many and too numerous too mention here.

However the facts if you can call them that are real. 

Good honest folk swore on their loved ones lives, never their own strangely enough. That on Christmas days in a year with an eight, whatever the weather and exactly at 4pm. There sure enough, for the few hardy souls that were brave enough to witness, was the spectral image of two souls locked together for eternity.

There are varying reasons for the sightings. 

Was it because this was the spot were the childhood sweethearts first kissed?

Was it because Stanley proposed to his life long love here?

Maybe it was the placing of the hands on the tower and the oath given by Mary that they would be together for all eternity no matter what?

Maybe the reason for the sightings are because of that last meeting with the spitfire and the tender moment where Stanley blows his loving wife a last kiss.

Who knows? 

Legend also says if you stand in the exact spot where Mary kissed Stanley for the very first time, you can hear the laughter of both lovers on the wind, whispering around the tower that is Hartshead Pike.

THE END