Eham is an unremarkable example of an Anglo-Welsh border village. Dark stone cottages cluster closely to a 12th Century church. The drabness of the buildings a fitting accompaniment to the drabness of the countryside on a dreary October morning, which is, unsurprisingly, dominated by cloud and a dismal light rain.
As you drive the narrow lanes from the main road to the village itself, you are struck by two things. One, the lack of people, for no one appears at any of the cottages lace covered windows in response to your cars engine. Surely something to bring the curious to a bout of curtain twitching. Two, the ominous shadow of the hill, rising above the village causing a sudden iciness to creep through your veins.
Standing in a row to the north of the church a group of four, small unattractive, terraced cottages bear a weathered sign announcing ‘Church Cottages 1-4’. As you pull the car to a halt your impression is that these cottages are empty, unlived in. If not for a hint of coal smoke from the middle of the four cottages, and the fact that the door to the church is slightly ajar, you might think this place deserted…