Whistling Jack's Story ( VILLAGE TALES EP. 21 )


This follows on from ‘Whistling Jack’ and is the investigation into how Jack

came to the village, and took up residence in the woodman’s hut. 

It covers his young life and an accident which would affect the rest of his life 

and how he would be treated.


If you remember it was Paul our shopkeeper who told me that the discomfort I had felt up in the wood was what some call ‘Whistling Jack’. Not wanting to appear too affected I had made little of an experience, the memory of which still terrifies me. Being drawn towards that ‘inhabited darkness’, an old man’s tuneless whistle and the dread helplessness still makes me shiver and disturbs my sleep. If it wasn’t for Lola, Paul’s Collie cross, I may not have lost my life, but I may have lost my mind. It was her urgent barking that had pulled me away from whatever it was she could see, and I was lost in.

It became a mission to discover more about Whistling Jack, not only out of curiosity but to reclaim some power by understanding what led to his presence persisting, if that’s what you believe is the source of such experiences.

There was a reluctance in the village to talk about Jack but eventually I traced an elderly lady living in a care home who’s mother had lived in the village prior to the first world war. With what she told me I was able to get Racheal, our local historian, to fill in much of the story. Once I had some of it, the locals were more prepared to tell me what they knew and gradually the story grew.

During World War One Jack’s older brother had returned from the front on leave and had taken him out for a ride on his motorbike. Rounding a bridge Jack had slipped of the pillion and hit his head against the parapet from which he never fully recovered. Not long afterJack’s brother had returned to France he was killed in action. The parents, who had no other children, were devastated and little was known about the family other than it seems Jack was left to fen for himself. His accident had severely affected his speech as well as his co-ordination. There was little that could be done for Jack at the time and he might have been committed to an asylum if it wasn’t for a generous land owner giving him an outbuilding to live in and food in return for whatever use he could be. Unfortunately his fellow workers were not so kind. He was shunned and bullied in equal measure and was often the butt of their jokes and ridicule. Eventually he returned home to find the cottage deserted, his parents having left to seek work in the West, fruit picking. He went in search of them and found only hostility wherever he went. Only when he arrived at our village one stormy night did he find a measure of kindness. He was offered somewhere to stay but found for himself a derelict woodman’s hut in the wood beyond the common. He would wander into the village once or twice a week and sit in the churchyard where those that had got to know him would give him food and clothing which he would take back to his home in the woods. Not everyone was so considerate. Some officials complained of his presence in the village and the church authorities requested he should be discouraged as he was an offence to decency and alarmed their congregation. The locals were more charitable and found Jack harmless and in turn he was grateful for their support and friendliness. Jack had at last found somewhere he could live in peace and contentment.

It was in 1938 that the local newspapers reported the disappearance of three children. It may have gone unnoticed as the papers were full of the prospect of war in Europe and how ill prepared Britain was for any conflict. The farms surrounding the village, as well as Blythe Hall, hired itinerant labour that worked all the daylight hours before moving onto the another place and another crop. Three young children released from their duties, two girls and a boy, had gone into the woods during the afternoon to where they had made a swing on the edge of a glade. By evening they had not returned, so a group set out to find them. They found the swing, a few half eaten apples and a simple wooden doll identified as belonging to the youngest girl. They came across Jack in his hut and by his fear of them and his inability to make them understand they became suspicious of him. The fact he was different made him even more likely he had something to hide. They ransacked his hut and Jack was beaten in an attempt to make him tell what had happened to the children, in fact, what he had done with them. Badly beaten they dragged him to the village where the police, already presuming his guilt, demanded to know where the children were. Several villagers having seen the spectacle or heard the commotion provided evidence of Jack being in the village all of the afternoon. Those that hadn’t seen him had heard his tuneless whistle by which most of the village knew of his presence. Begrudgingly Jack was released and allowed to find his own way back to his hut.

Whilst the children remained missing there was an uneasy feeling throughout the village. Several meetings were held to establish if anyone had seen any strangers, but there was no one. To some, the lack of anything else was enough to point the finger at Jack.

It was a week or two after the workers had moved on that Jack’s body was found amongst the smouldering remains of his woodman’s hut. There was sufficient evidence to show that he had been badly beaten and the contents of his paraffin heater had been used to set his hut on fire. Some couldn’t believe it had been anything more a dreadful accident.

Some of the workers that had been in the area were traced but none of those could be proved to have been guilty of the murder, if that’s what it was. What was discovered was that there was a fierce argument the night before the children disappeared between who was thought to be the mother of the children and a worker that had just joined them. He was not known to any of those questioned, it seemed only the children’s mother knew him. At the time of the children’s disappearance, had he too. The real identity of itinerant workers was, and probably still is, unreliable. The structure of their relationships was seldom documented and parental responsibilities could vary from year to year, if not week to week. 

The disappearance of the three children, which was an isolated event, was eventually put down to the recently arrived worker. On balance it was decided that having traced the children, he and the mother had then argued over the possession of the children. Hearing the following day that the three children had gone to play elsewhere that afternoon, gave him the opportunity to take them away with him. A police sergeant was asked why the mother had not given any explanation? He replied that firstly they had not been able to trace her and she had not come forward. The reason for that might be that she was not the rightful mother, or she was guilty of contravening some legally binding arrangement.

If you believe in such things it is pitiful that Jack having had to endure what he did during his lifetime, in death had still found no peace, and it worries me that others might experience what I did and not have a dog to rescue them. The new owners of the Old Mill, renown locally for it being ‘haunted’, are having a ‘house whisperer’ visit the building before they move in. I know little of these things but if the opportunity occurs I will ask her if she knows how we can help Jack’s spirit to find some peace at last and lift its dark presence from the nearby wood. Either way, I’ll let you know.


Listen to Village Tales and other short stories from the HONKEYMOON CAFE

 on Spotify, Anchor FM, Apple Podcasts, RadioPublic, Pocket Casts, 

Google Podcasts, Breaker and other platforms. 

Written and read by Barkley Johnson.

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