The night before had, once again, been chaotic. A couple of hours before dawn, William had run down the upstairs hallway, shouting words they couldn't understand. If it was not for the recently installed gate at the top of the stairs, a tragic accident could have taken place. On top of that, after guiding their son back to bed, John had a traumatized wife to calm as well.

'What if the gate hadn't been there? He could have...Oh John! What are we going to do?'

'Nothing happened, love. Don't even think about it.' John had reassured her with a gentle kiss on the top of her head. 'Maybe we should start locking his bedroom door.'

Now, after a very tiring day, John found himself submerged nearly to the neck in a tub of warm, sudsy water. He sighed, and sank further under the water. He always enjoyed this time right before bed...he only hoped they could all sleep through the night. One good night was all they needed. One proper night of sleep.

But, his quiet time was about to end. The door was flung open and from the corner of his eye John caught his son, the human dynamo, bounding into the bathroom, stark naked, his sailing ship in one hand and a huge smile on his face. He threw his leg over the side of the tub before John had a chance to brace himself.

'William! Now be careful, son. You're going to get water on the floor.'

'Mummy told me to jump in,' William said, settling his bare bottom on top of his father's stomach.

This wasn't unusual, sharing the tub with his son. It saved time and water. It made sense. And as much as a quiet, blissful soak appealed to John tonight, he knew he would always chose this special time with Will.

'Mummy told you, huh? I very well believe it.' John shook his head, chuckling. He pulled himself upright in the tub so William could sit between his legs facing him. Then they began their game, pushing the wooden boat through the soapy water. First to John then back to Will.

'Yeah, she said it was boy's bath time,' William spoke, sending the boat on it's way. It traveled through the water until it poked John right above his belly button.

'Well, I suppose it is,' John replied, pushing the boat back to Will.

'Well, I suppose I was wrong.' Anna came in the bathroom with a naked twin in her arms, and John knew then there was going to be another addition to the family bath.

The little girl failed her limbs excitedly upon seeing the sight of the tub. Finn loved water more than anything, unlike Fee, who rather prefer to be dry and dressed. 'I think she would really like to join you two. She loves the big tub,' Anna continued, handing the baby to John.

'Well, I suppose there's always room for one more. Although, a relaxing, quiet alone bath was something I was needing at the moment,' he eyed his wife with a wink before sitting the girl on his thigh facing him, her back to William. Her hands found the bubbles and she was in heaven, trying to hold them in her grasp.

'You'll have all that alone time once they are older. Come on, John, it will spare us some time, and I can get Fee tucked into bed.'

John nodded. After all being a father was also making sacrifices, wasn't it? And he knew too well he would miss these moments once they were over for good. 'Doesn't Fee need a bath too?'

Anna knelt beside the tub, cupping her hand a scooping warm water over Finn's shoulders causing her to shiver. 'No, she pooped up her back today and had her bath in the sink, earlier, the monkey. Can you handle this?'

'Of course, can't we, Will?' John said, as Anna left the room.

'Yep. Look Finnie, a boat,' William showed the toy to his sister. 'You can play with it if you want.' But the girl had her eyes on something else.

'What are you doing, you cheeky monkey?' John asked, kissing her chubby baby cheek as he noticed Finn's attention being drawn to the dark hairs on his chest. The next second she tangled her tiny fingers around the wet curls and pulled much harder than he would have thought possible for one so small. 'Ah! Finn, no. That hurts Daddy,' he yelled, looking seriously at the girl, trying to win some compassion from her.

His reaction only caused her to laugh and pull again, this time harder.

'Finn!'

But Finn was laughing so hard she got the hiccups, and that's when William joined in, pulling at the hairs on John's legs.

'William! Stop it!' John scolded, shooting his son the look, but when Finn understood what her brother was doing behind her back, her laughter became stronger, making her cheeks turn red, while her hands hit excitedly on her father's chest, only teasing Will to repeat the trick.

'But she loves it,' Will replied, laughing.

'But it hurts Will, so don't you dar- William Bates!'

Now the two children were laughing hysterically, and all John could do to defend himself was lift one foot out of the water and splash his son. Well...now there was water everywhere, and the two eyed each other with serious faces.

'Whoa...Mum will be mad at you,' William warned his father and John rolled his eyes at that.

'Mummy won't like it when I tell her what you did either. Hand me the cloth,' he pointed toward a white cloth hanging from the tub's tap, 'will you? Why don't you help me wash your sister?'

William nodded, grabbing the cloth and beginning to rub it against his Finn's back.

'Now her bum,' John said, lifting the girl out the water and holding her almost in William's face.

'I don't want to clean her bum! Ew!' Will wrinkled his nose, trying to distance himself from his sister's rosy bottom.

'Come on, clean her poopie bum, Will,' John continued, teasing the boy. 'Do you have a poopie bum, Finnie?' The little girl laughed even more and this time it was John who joined her. 'Go on, Will...'

'Daddy! She's weeing! Ew! Look!' William's face was almost horrified as they both witnessed the trail of pee running down the girl's legs into their bathwater.

'Oh God! Oh God!' John held the baby in the air, trying to find a way out, but of course there was nothing he could do. As for Finn, well, she found the whole situation hilarious. 'William, put the...Anna?! Oh God! Will, where are you going?!'

'I don't want no wee'd in water. Bleh,' the boy answered, jumping out of the tub and running to one corner of the bathroom.

'You're going to get the whole floor wet.' John grimaced, desperate now. 'Anna, get in here and help us!''

'Whatever is the matter? Oh my God,' Anna came running into the bathroom, wide-eyed at the sight before her. 'What on earth happened in here in the last three minutes? There's water everywhere!'

'She's wee'd, Anna, in the bathwater!' John explained, handing her the girl.

'Oh! Come here, my darling,' Anna cooed to her slippery, wet baby. 'Did you wee on Daddy and Will?'

'It's not funny, Anna.'

'It wouldn't be the first time…' Anna giggle, placing a kiss on Finn's nose.

'What do you mean?!'

'...and whatever are you doing there?' She spotted William shivering in the corner.

'I don't want to be swimming in her wee...' the boy replied, quite upset.

'Get a towel around you before you get sick, please. And this doesn't explain all the the water on the floor.'

'That was daddy's fault!' Will was not going to be blamed for that.

'Me? He was pulling my leg hairs, Anna. And she laughed so hard she pee'd on us.'

Anna sighed in exasperation, 'Get out of the tub then and wrap a towel around yourself too, and see to them while I clean up this mess. Then I'll refill the tub.

'I'm not bathing with them again, Anna,' John informed her, getting out of the tub and grabbing a towel from the bar behind him.

'You won't have to. We will re-wash the children from the sink and when they are in bed we can share,' Anna said, wrapping a towel around Finn before handing her back to John, and although her tone was nothing but innocent her eyes had flashed a racy wink at him. 'Take her. Fee's already in her cot.'

'All right, but...' he rounded her with the baby in his arms, whispering rather seductively in her ear. 'Only if you promise not to wee in the water.' His teasing made her giggle and she nodded, promising not to do such thing.

'Silly beggars. All of you!' She was off then, walking downstairs to get the mop and bucket, leaving John and William in the bathroom, half naked and with a rather dangerous baby in their care.

'You little weeing monkey.' John gave in to his daughter's warm smile. How could he hold a grudge against something so sweet and precious. 'Let's get you both washed up again and in your jammies and get you to bed, shall we?' John turned to run water in the big pedestal sink, handing Will a soapy, wet wash cloth. 'Come on, son. Give yourself a quick sponge bath while I clean Finn up. One day, when you're married and have your own children I shall tell them about this night and I hope then you feel rightly ashamed of yourself.'

'I promise I only wee'd once, Daddy. And you didn't even notice.'

'William Bates...' John stopped in his tracks, looking at his son.

'You didn't even notice!' Will repeated, washing himself.

On that very night John promised himself that he would never share the tub with the children again. A promise he would break less than a week later.

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February 9th, 1928 12:00 noon

As you know, at Anna's insistence, I spent the night here at the hotel. Well, a week has passed and not much else has happened. My father stays in his room at night. He claims his doorknob has been rattled on occasion but he just pulls his blanket over his head and goes to sleep. Avoidance seems to be working for Caleb too. He says he's not heard a thing this week. He refused to even talk to Anna about it, much to her chagrin.

Owen Argall and Dafydd Priddy, the two old gents Anna was itching to question, have been under the weather and haven't been in the pub all week. It's that bloody stomach flu that's been polluting the village. She's sure they might be able to narrow down our 'ghost' as long as he died within the past sixty years.

She was quite determined to visit the old boys at their boarding house. She had a get-well basket of goodies packed up and was heading out the door yesterday when I caught her. I talked her out of the visit saying we didn't want to risk bringing the flu back here. Thankfully, she saw the sense in that. She will be happy though when she comes into work today, as I see Owen and Dafydd are back at their usual table by the front window.

Oh, we did find out Dwi yma, the words I thought I heard whispered that night means, I'm here, in Welsh. And you can imagine Anna's reaction to that, although I must admit it does sound rather ominous. My father still claims it called his name, Eamon. It didn't.

It's time for me to run home and help Anna bring the children over. It could be an interesting afternoon.

~ John Bates

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Dwi yma...I'm here ~ Anna and the Welshmen

Anna watched the two ancient Welshmen as they sat at the table by the window. Always the same table, from noon until six o'clock. Every day, they would drink their ale, laugh at their own private jokes and argue. They would be arguing furiously one minute and be jovially slapping each other on the back the next.

'Are you all right, lass?'

It was her father in law's voice that came to her ears and she only nodded, not wanting to break her line of vision. She was standing behind the bar, while Eamon walked back and forth serving the few patrons they had in the pub, her mind too distracted by the two old men.

'Father, I'm going to go talk to them now.'

'To whom?' Eamon asked as he approached her, polishing a glass on his apron.

'Them,' she nodded subtly towards the window table.

'Oh! Well, I'm pretty sure they ain't busy. Those old chumps spend their days drinking and disagreeing with each other. You won't be interrupting anything.'

Anna nodded at his words, her eyes never leaving the old men. 'That's what I thought. Here I go... '

'Wait, wait, wait…' this time it was her husband who spoke, holding her by the arm and pulling her to him. 'Are you sure you want to speak with them about this?'

'Why not?' Eamon questioned and he was answered with a angry look from his son.

'I'm talking to my wife, thank you,' John replied to his father.

'Why not?' Anna repeated Eamon's question.

'Because...Anna, for some people, the idea of ghosts is…'

'Ridiculous?' Anna rolled her eyes. 'I know. You are some people.'

Eamon was nodding in agreement behind John's back. 'Ye of little faith.'

'Ye of...you have as much faith as I do!' John couldn't believe they were rebelling against him now.

'Well, but I believe her when she says it's a ghost,' his father said and Anna smiled victoriously.

'You only do because you think you've seen it yourself,' John reasoned, exasperated. This whole business of Eamon Bates loving Anna like a daughter was going too far now.

'I've heard it, I've felt it, and yes, I've seen its shadow. And I might have seen it's image in that mirror there!''

'That's not faith.' John turned to his father, crossing his arms in disapproving manner. 'That's seeing is believing which is not as- wait! Where's Anna?' They both turned to see her heading for the table with pint of beer in each hand.

'Good afternoon, gentlemen.' Anna's cheery voice silenced the Welshmen as she walked up to their table, and she was welcomed with two big, mostly toothless grins.

'Oh! Good afternoon Mrs Bates,' one of them said, raising his glass at her presence.

'Afternoon,missus,' the other followed, tipping his hat.

'I wonder if I might have a word with you?' she asked, setting the drinks in front of them. They motioned for her to sit down with them. She did, while John and Eamon watched from the bar, dying of curiosity.

'Were always fond of having words with a pretty lass.' The older of the two Welshmen winked, the other nodded in agreement.

'It's about...well, how can I put this?' Anna tried to think of the right words. She didn't want them to think she was lunatic. She knew some people didn't believe in these things, she was married to one. 'You see, we've been having a few problems here at the hotel.'

'You don't say!'

'You ain't closin' up, are you?'

'Oh, no. Never.' Anna shook her head, smiling. 'We love doing what we do!'

'But say,' Dafydd Priddy asked 'If you came to talk to us about your troubles, it means you think we can help?'

'Exactly! Now, I know you boys have been coming here longer than anyone else and you must have seen a lot of folks come and go. You see, a few people have been experiencing some odd activity during the night,' Anna continued. 'They hear things, feel things, there are voices...and surprisingly enough whatever this is speaks Welsh!'

'Welsh? Are you sure?'

'And what does it say?'

'Dwi yma. It means, I'm here, right?' Anna asked.

'That's Welsh, all right.'

'And it means, I'm here. It does indeed!'

'I thought maybe, if you searched your memories you could help me.' She tried to question them further without sounding too crazy. John wouldn't like that one bit. 'Do you remember any other Welshman who might have had an attachment to the building? One who has died, perhaps?'

'Well…' the two men shared knowing looks between them and Anna knew then they had something to tell her.

'Yes? You can tell me? Please, we really want to understand what's happening,' she begged.

'I don't think it has anything to do with your ghost, or whatever it is, Mrs Bates,' Owen said, pursing his lips. The friend looked a little more unsure.

'Well, just in case, tell me, please?'

'We had a friend, him and I. Davy Driscoll was his name. Many, many years ago now.' The two began to tell their tale in turns.

'We were as young as you are. The three of us came from Wales to here to work in the coalfields of Yorkshire. That was backbreaking work and after a spell we got ourselves jobs working on farms around the area, but we'd always meet up back here at the end of the day. And always at this here table.'

'Yes, and then he had to go back to Wales. His father fell ill, his mother needed help.'

'They had a family farm and they wanted him to take care of everything. Only son.'

'So he went back home, decided to settle there for good.'

'We knew each other since we were boys, traveled here together, worked together in the fields.'

'So before he left, we made a promise to meet here, at this very pub, at this very table, fifty years later.'

'That would be this year. It would be now.'

'But it was not bound to happen.'

'Caught his father's illness. Consumption. Killed him in less than a year.'

Anna heard their words ever so attentively, an idea forming on her mind. 'And if he was alive he would meet the two of you here, this year?' she asked.

'Yes. February all right. That's when he left.'

'Well, that's simply fantastic!' she clapped her hands together. John and Eamon popped their heads up at her reaction, they knew she was on to something.

'Is it now?' one of the Welshmen questioned rather confused.

'How so?' the other insisted, eyeing his old friend.

'I think it's your friend, Davy Driscoll himself, who's been wandering around, trying to get someone to notice him,' Anna concluded quite excitedly. Something inside her told her she was right.

'Whatever for?' the two friends asked in unison.

'Don't you understand? To honour his word to you,' Anna explained. It all made sense.

'She may be right, you know,' one of the men told the other.

'I was thinking the same,' his friend nodded in agreement.

'Thank you so much for your time, Mr Argall and Mr Priddy. I won't bother you any more now. I have to think about this.'

'Never a bother, Mrs Bates,' they smiled kindly at her.

'Pretty lasses never bother old men,' the older of the two winked, raising his voice as she walked away, and Anna couldn't help but smile back at them.

'Pretty lasses never bother old men?' John had heard the Welshman's last words to his wife and he was not sure he was happy about it. 'What sort of-'

'John Bates, they are almost one hundred, please!' Anna giggled, running a reassuring hand along the lapel of his jacket. 'They are just sweet old men.'

'John's a sweet old man if you compare-'

'Nothing ungenerous, Father,' she warned her father in law before he could finish his sentence, tapping his arm softly. The man, of course abided her wishes, as he always did while John shot him a disapproving look.

'All right, all right, I won't say it. He already knows.'

'Come on, you two.' Anna grabbed them each by the arm and urged them toward the office where they could speak in private. There was no one at the bar, they could certainly spare five minutes. 'I have so much to tell you.'

'So, what did they say?' John asked, his curiosity replacing all the uncertainty about the matter of this ghost.

'Davy Driscoll!'

'Who's that?' father and son asked in unison and she couldn't help but chuckle.

'The ghost has a name. Now all we have to do is contact him.'

'Contact him?' John's doubts were back, and judging by his father's expression they were being shared now.

'Don't you worry, darling. I know exactly what to do!'

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February 9, 1928 9:30 pm

Will has been safely tucked into his bed. As way to entertain him today, I had him string tiny bells on ribbons. Before bedtime we hung them on his door, the gate on the stairway and on our bedroom door too, in the hopes that they will alert us if he walks in his sleep tonight. He thinks it's a game and we're trying to catch fairies. It's nearly impossible to explain the concept of sleepwalking to a four year old. I've been reading everything I can find on it for weeks now and I still don't fully understand it. I doubt anyone does really. Hopefully it is a phase he's going through, like most of the articles on it says and it will end soon.

The girls are seven months old now and it just doesn't seem possible. They're not breastfeeding as much as they used to. We've been slowly introducing them to 'real people food', as Will calls it. They love the mashed carrots, but the peas didn't go over so well. We'll keep trying different things. Thin oatmeal with a bit of banana is a breakfast favorite. It's so much fun watching their little expressions as they try out new foods.

I talked to the old Welshmen in the pub today. As I suspected, they were able to remember a pal of theirs from long ago who frequented the pub with them when they were young men. His name was Davy Driscoll. He died young and in Wales, but not before making a pact with the other two to meet at the pub fifty years from the time he left. I think Davy is here as promised, and he just wants to be acknowledged. That's what we plan on doing. I will borrow the spirit board from the downstairs at the Abbey. I hope they still have it. We shall hold a seance and try to contact Davy Driscoll.

John's not fully on board with this idea. I think he worries if it gets out that the Grantham Arms has a ghost, it will be bad for business. He might be right about that, but we'll keep it as quiet as possible and hopefully by the end of the evening we'll be able to send Davy happily on his way and we'll no longer be haunted.

And here comes my lovely husband lumbering into the room...with a sheet over his head and his arms out-stretched, moaning, no less! Silly beggar. Goodnight all.

~Anna Bates