Good evening.

Tonight’s story comes from the Rhondda Valley, in the autumn of 1999 — a time of pumpkins in windows, children planning Halloween costumes… and one family too frightened to sleep in their own home.

The house stands on St Stephen’s Avenue in Pentre, Rhondda. Nearly a century old. Red-brick. Semi-detached. The sort of house that has seen generations come and go.

When the Cowell family moved in, they expected creaking pipes and settling floorboards.

They did not expect three ghosts.

For Tracey Cowell, the trouble began almost immediately.

“We were sitting in the kitchen,” she would later recall, “when a jug shifted.”

Not toppled.

Shifted.

And then, before their eyes, wooden utensils lifted from their container and flew across the room — landing in a neat, deliberate line along the worktop.

They didn’t wait for a second demonstration.

They ran.

It was, they say, the beginning of 18 months of terror.

Tracey and her partner David — along with their children Laurie, John, Andrew and five-year-old Nathan — soon began sensing something else in the house.

Not just odd noises.

A presence.

Late one night, while lying in bed, Tracey and her husband heard banging on the stairs. Then a rhythmic scraping sound — as if someone were scrubbing floors in the darkness.

On another occasion, Andrew went downstairs to investigate a noise.

Tracey remained in bed.

That was when she felt it.

An invisible force pressing her into the mattress. Pinning her down. Crushing the breath from her lungs.

She tried to move. Couldn’t.

Then it lifted.

She has described feeling sudden waves of icy cold, a hand gripping her arm when no one was there.

And once — perhaps most shockingly — she claims she was pushed, forcefully, into the bath by unseen hands.

But the experiences were not hers alone.

Laurie, aged ten, says she woke one night to find herself being dragged by her feet — pulled from her bed by something she could not see.

Tracey began to wonder if whatever lingered in the house had a particular hostility toward the women in the family.

Then there was Nathan.

Five years old.

One evening, he went upstairs to the toilet and did not come back down.

Minutes passed.

Then his brother John ran into the hall screaming that something was wrong.

Tracey and David rushed to the stairs.

There was Nathan.

Walking backwards down the staircase.

His eyes fixed on the landing above.

Talking.

To someone who wasn’t there.

He later told his parents the ghost was called “Queenie.”

She wore a long dress, covered by a pinafore. She didn’t have feet when she crossed the landing.

And she told him that what was now the bathroom had once been her bedroom.

By that point, the Cowells decided they needed help.

Not from a plumber. Not from an electrician.

From an exorcist.

Enter David Lambert — known in paranormal circles simply as “The Exorcist.”

A Cardiff-based spiritualist with a reputation that stretched far beyond Wales.

He claimed to have cleared properties for celebrities including Tina Turner, David Bowie and Mick Jagger.

But on this October evening in 1999, his focus was a frightened family in Pentre.

David arrived and quickly made his assessment.

“There are three spirits here,” he told them.

An elderly woman — benevolent, watchful.

A young girl, perhaps eight years old, dressed in grey with an apron and mop cap, like a servant. He sensed she had suffered a tragic end.

And a mischievous young boy, equally restless.

He also noticed something else.

Nathan, he said, had a gift. Children and animals, he explained, are often the most receptive to spirits.

Poltergeists, David believed, are not always malicious. Sometimes they simply want attention. They move objects, bang walls, hide items — not to terrify, but to be acknowledged.

Spirits, he said, can become “stuck.” In limbo. Unaware that loved ones are waiting for them elsewhere.

And so, rather than shouting or chanting, David did something surprisingly simple.

He spoke to them.

He reminded them they no longer belonged in the house. That it was time to move on. That family awaited them.

According to David, the old woman and the boy “passed over” easily.

The young girl was reluctant.

But eventually, he said, she too agreed — encouraged by the sense that her grandmother was waiting.

The house fell quiet.

Tracey, who had feared incense and theatrical rituals, found relief in the calm simplicity of it.

“If they come back,” she reportedly said afterward, “I’ll just tell them to shut up.”

But who was this man offering comfort to the haunted?

At 28, David Lambert had been an interior designer with no belief in ghosts at all.

Then he suffered a heart attack.

On the operating table, he says, he died — briefly.

When surgeons revived him, he began seeing spirits.

At first, he feared brain damage. Medical scans showed nothing unusual.

A nurse suggested he speak to a medium. That led him to a spiritualist group in Cardiff.

Eventually, he met renowned medium Doris Stokes, who helped him develop what he believed was a gift.

From there, his reputation grew.

Rock stars sought his help. Families in quiet valleys called his number. And on that Halloween in 1999, the Cowells hoped he had restored peace to their 97-year-old home.

Did it work?

The family reported that the disturbances ceased.

No more flying utensils.

No more scrubbing in the night.

No more backward steps down the staircase.

Sceptics might suggest stress, suggestion, the power of belief.

Believers might say the spirits were gently persuaded home.

Either way, for one Rhondda family, the terror lifted.

And as Halloween approached that year, St Stephen’s Avenue stood a little quieter.

No banging on the stairs.

No invisible hands.

Just the ordinary creaks of an old Welsh house settling into the night.

But if you walk past it after dark…

You might still wonder.

And like the Cowells in 1999 —

You’ll just have to wait and see.

Good night.