Who, or what, is Esther Bligh?
At the end of the Second World War, Grace Marlowe moves to the far west of Wales, hoping for a fresh start. Instead, she finds herself trapped in a dark, forgotten house, surrounded by a bleak landscape and unwelcoming neighbours. Even her ‘voices’ - her spirit-world companions - appear to abandon her. Except for one…
Then anonymous letters begin to arrive, addressed to ‘Mrs. Esther Bligh’, dated more than twenty years before. They accuse Esther of the worst of crimes, committed in this same house - a place she had arrived in as a young bride, but had quickly come to detest. Soon, Grace becomes increasingly lost in the nightmare vision of Esther’s past deeds, conjured by the words from the letters, together with the voice in her head.
And, like the voice, Esther’s presence in the house grows ever stronger. Will Grace find a way to escape, or will she succumb to the only means of freedom that Esther can countenance - to burn her old home to the ground?
A psychological exploration of a troubled mind, or a story of demonic possession in a haunted house - ‘Esther Bligh’ is as ambiguous as the character herself.

A rushed ceremony in a back-street office. They were used to it then, with the soldiers and their floozies, wanting their weddings before France, the trenches, death. Witnesses pulled off the streets. It was easy. But there was to be no death, he was sure. ‘The war is all but over. This is no more than information-gathering. I’ll be back before you know it, and then I’ll take you home.’ Home. The word always wrapped in smarming breath. So special, so meaningful, as if that were how all homes were. As if he had no knowledge of rats grinning at you from corners, black mildew serving as patterned wallpaper, the stench of week-old stew mingled with stale piss…

*

That night, Grace dreams of Esther Bligh. Except she doesn’t know who Esther Bligh is. A woman without a face, without clear form, who wanders through the shadows of a house - this house. Sometimes, she carries a child in her arms; sometimes, there is a man, too, who follows her around, calling ‘Esther, Esther!’ But Esther moves faster, faster, never allowing him to catch up with her, until she disappears.