Mother Maggie
Podcast story about a cult living in a mansion on the fens
Tasha: Hello and welcome to Episode 5 of The Perplex Files with me, Tasha Brindle.
Claudia: And me, Claudia Larkin.
Tasha: Come on in and join us. Walk our corridors. Dine at our table. Nap by our fireplace. Slumber under our blankets. Sounds inviting, doesn’t it?
Claudia: Not really to be honest. You’d be a rubbish cult leader. You’ve started with the creepiness turned up to eleven. Begin with cake, then work up to the creepiness.
Tasha: You wouldn’t join my cult? Rude.
Claudia: Face it, you’ll be running a cult of one.
Tasha: You’d run a cult of one, too. Luring people in with cake means sharing the cake. Nope. Not going to happen.
Claudia: My cult members would be cakes. Who needs people when you can have Battenburg and Swiss roll?
Tasha: But then you’d scoff the lot and be left on your lonesome, again.
Claudia: Foiled. Let’s face it neither of us has what it takes. But we might pick up some tips in today’s episode cos our topic is Mother Maggie.
Tasha: Mother Maggie. Now that’s a name to send you hiding behind the sofa. Mother Maggie was a notorious cult leader, possible serial killer and … fantastic baker. She had a huge grim mansion that overlooked the Norfolk wetlands, the fens. We’ll put the photos up. It’s the archetypal murder house.
Claudia: See how it looms right out of the mist. I bet each time you count the windows it’s a different number.
Tasha: Mardle House had been in Maggie’s family for yonks. And it looks as much a part of the fens as the fog and the marshes.
Claudia: Quick history lesson – go back a couple of centuries and the fens were massive. Huge. They were underwater for a big stretch of the year. Wasn’t much there but eels and malaria, but local folk loved it. They had peat for fuel and reeds for thatch. What else did you need?
Tasha: Well, cake would be a start.
Claudia: So, when King Charles 1st got in it his head to drain the fens, folk weren’t pleased. In fact, they were miffed. They attacked the windmills and the dams. But they couldn’t win. They couldn’t fight the future.
Tasha: But Maggie’s ancestors had a real try. This is from ‘Fen Folktales’ by James Clopton.
No anthology of local lore would be complete without Robert Walsham, a hero to some, but a villain to others, and undoubtedly the most ferocious of all the Fenland Tigers. It was said he worshipped the fens. Certainly, he felt no remorse for his crimes, for the innocent blood he shed, for the eight lives he took. He showed no mercy to those who threatened the fens. But did the fens show mercy to him? His body disappeared after he was hanged, rumoured to be stolen and returned to the very waters he idolised. Did the fens restore him to life? For there have been many sightings of him down the years. Some say he carries a lantern and that in that lantern is no ordinary light, no flame, but a will-o-the-wisp.
Claudia: For our international listeners, will-o-the-wisps were eerie lights out on marshes and bogs. They were said to be spirits that led folk to their doom.
Tasha: Was Robert Walsham leading folk to watery graves? He had beef. But poor unfortunate folk were often perishing in the marshes. Anyway, if he was so deadly, surely no one who’d seen him would’ve lived to tell the tale?
Claudia: Maybe he was just a bogey man. A tale told to children to spook them, to keep them away from the deadly waters.
Tasha: Like those terrifying public information films in the 1980s. Don’t climb a pylon – you will die. Don’t fall asleep smoking – you will die. Don’t go back to that firework…
Claudia: To be fair, that’s all solid advice. They just went a bit nuts by the time they got to rugs. Polish a floor? Put a rug on it? You might as well have laid a mantrap.
Tasha: No doubt Robert Walsham was an intimidating fella. We’ll put his portrait up on our socials. Just don’t make eye contact.
Claudia: I mean, look at that glower. Never mind, the fens. I don’t even want to go near a bath now. Mission accomplished.
Tasha: Robert was sighted just a few years ago, in the BBC afternoon prog Moving to the Country.
Claudia: What country was he moving to? Atlantis? Surely, he wasn’t the type to sell up?
Tasha: No one noticed the figure on the drive until the episode aired. The tv presenter hadn’t glanced at the severely handsome bloke in 17th century clobber. Just have a listen to her chatting away.
Our house search starts near the Norfolk village of Lure, beside the famous fens. An area of outstanding natural beauty, of waterways and windmills, and endless Norfolk skies. The call it the big sky. And you can see why. Our first property today is unique and, despite its generous size, falls well within Clare and Barry’s budget. But will they fall in love with it? They asked for a character property with at least five bedrooms and a view. And the all-important inglenook fireplace. Well, Clare what do you think?
It’s beautiful, just beautiful. But it’s got to be well out of our range.
That’s just where you’re wrong. It’s on the market for offers starting at £400,000.
You’re joking.
I’m very serious, Barry. Mardle House has an interesting history, and that’s reflected in the price. It was home to Margaret Walsham, better known as Mother Maggie.
The cult leader?
Tasha: Needless to say, Clare and Barry didn’t buy Mardle House. As for the fella in the tricorn hat? Perhaps the BBC were just having a laugh. Afterall, that episode had been broadcast near Halloween. We’ll put the screenshots up. Geezer or ghost, he’s the spit of Robert Marshall.
Claudia: The BBC had so many complaints about featuring Mardle House, they had to apologise.
Tasha: Turned out, they’d promoted Margaret Walsham back in the 80s. A do-gooder on local news. She’d been reaching out to troubled teens, taking them into her home, and teaching them old crafts and skills.
Claudia: Margaret had such a way with the youngsters, they called her Mother Maggie. Locals thought highly of her. Hadn’t she got the kids off the streets? Hadn’t she turned lives around?
Tasha: We’ve got a clip from Norfolk news. But you might be surprised. Maggie was a no nonsense, warm, middle-aged woman. Everybody’s favourite aunt.
These days Mardle House is more like a boarding school than a lady’s mansion. And it’s all thanks to the owner, Margaret Walsham, or as these teenagers call her, Mother Maggie. Margaret, what possessed you to devote yourself to helping young people?
Well, far as I can see, it’s them that’s helping me. Given me a purpose, they have. And if I can make a difference in just one life, just one, that’s the greatest achievement of all. Course I get to pass down all my knowledge of the fens, too. And that were vanishing. But it won’t vanish now. Now don’t just stand about filming, give us a hand with these reeds.
Claudia: Maggie’s results were astonishing. Ruffian after ruffian went to stay at Mardle House. The local council even got involved. Soon, they were recommending her to the families of kids expelled from school. Mardle Mansion became the young offenders’ halfway house.
Tasha: Laura Jonson moved in Feb 87. Laura was a sixteen-year-old who’d been expelled from three schools and hadn’t a hope of an O Level. Not unless they were going to bring in O Levels in shop lifting and crashing your dad’s Volvo.
Claudia: Laura was surly, skinny, and sour. Mardle House was her last chance. Her parents had had enough. If she didn’t shape up, she’d have to ship out. Laura had an attitude and then some. She didn’t want any truck with reeds or peat. Maggie didn’t bother talking to her. She just gave her jobs. Sweeping at first. Then peeling veg.
Tasha: Laura sulked and sighed. There wasn’t even a telly. She hadn’t even been allowed to bring her Walkman. In the evenings, they all played board games like losers. It was worse than home.
Claudia: But something happened. Laura changed. Was it the chores? Was it the dinners? Was it the learning? Or was it the fens themselves? She wrote home to her sister, Sarah.
Dear Fartface,
It pains me to admit mum and dad were right about something (cos it’s never happened before), but Mardle’s okay. Mother Maggie isn’t such a battleaxe, after all. She proper scared me when I got here, but once you get to know her, she’s nice. An adult who actually cares! Shocker! How rare is that? That’s like finding a dodo or something.
It’s calm out here. No one shouts at you. I thought I’d go mad without a telly, but I like it. Even the monopoly has grown on me. Yeah, I was going to run away, but that’s basically a death wish. You’re not going to last long out on the fens at night. Glug, glug, glug. So, I had to stay put. Now I don’t want to leave.
It’s peaceful here. Maggie says that’s the fens soothing my soul. I thought that was a pile of poo, but it’s true. You breath them right in and they take all the bad stuff away. You should come.
Byyyyyye,
Your loving (not really) sister, Laura.
Tasha: Laura flourished. She swapped attitude for gratitude. Aimless brooding was replaced by busy contentment. She wrote home often – long rhapsodies about the fens. Laura was in love. True love. With the mist, with the marsh, with Mardle.
Claudia: Her parents were overjoyed. Their daughter was herself again. The troubled years were over. Her dad even thought about giving her driving lessons. She’d be home soon, wouldn’t she?
Tasha: The months went by. Spring wafted into Summer, but Laura wasn’t home. Her parents fretted. What if she wasn’t coming back?
Claudia: Laura’s sister, Sarah, had just finished her A Levels. She was a solid gold swot. Top in everything. Oxbridge bound. Okay, the sisters had had their clashes, but surely Sarah could get through to her. Mardle House wasn’t meant to be forever.
Tasha: Sarah packed her bags and got on the train. She was met at the station by Mother Maggie in her jeep.
Claudia: Sarah later described Maggie as hostile. She swore Maggie drove recklessly to scare her. Why else did Maggie tell her about all the poor folk who’d perished in the fens? Did she want Sarah to demand she turn around?
Tasha: Then she saw Mardle. Was this grim mansion really her sister’s salvation? Were those dank marshes really her Eden? She climbed out of the jeep clutching her bag. She wanted to leg it. But where could she go?
Claudia: I’d have stolen the jeep.
Tasha: And driven right into a watery grave.
Claudia: But then Laura ran out the door and pulled her into a hug. Who was this girl and what had they done with her sister? Pallid, skinny, and grumpy had bloomed into tanned, hearty, and cheery.
Tasha: Okay so the mansion was eerie and Maggie creepy. But look at Laura! And Sarah had a pressie for her – teen mags. But Laura’s face fell. What was Sarah thinking bringing this trash to Mardle?
Claudia: Laura binned the mags. Mardle had to be kept pure. Pure from the outside world, the modern world. Sarah was aghast. Laura sounded like a nutter. And there was a weird glow in her eyes.
Tasha: But then the bell rang for dinner. It was a real spread. No doubt, they feasted in the fens. Sarah was famished from the journey, so she tucked in. Things aren’t so sinister when you’re stuffing your face.
Claudia: It was proper hearty grub, too. Pies for days. And Maggie’s pastry was fantastic. Maybe she wasn’t so bad, after all.
Tasha: But soon as she woke the following morning, Sarah asked Maggie to take her to the station. She didn’t even say goodbye to her sister. She huddled in the jeep, pale-faced, as Maggie told her Laura wasn’t going anywhere. Laura was meant for Mardle. Her soul’s home was the fens.
Claudia: My soul’s home is the Cadbury factory.
Tasha: Sarah didn’t tell her parents what happened. But she did write in her diary.
How do I tell Mum and Dad they sent her to a cult? They blame themselves enough as it is. If they knew what’s really going on in Mardle.... Dad would go up there and try to drag Laura home, and he can’t, he can’t. They’d hurt him. I was being warned off. So, I’ll just have to let Mum and Dad think Laura’s staying on a couple more months.
But I have to write down everything that happened, so I don’t forget. It started with breathing in the fens. That’s their sunset ceremony when they all go out and breathe in that stinking air. Maggie was beating that tambourine with each breath. Then they sang that horrible song. Maggie said it’d been passed down her family. It sent chills down my spine. Then we played Monopoly, but everything felt wrong. They didn’t close the curtains. I thought there were lights out there. That ginger girl – Olivia – asked if I wanted to meet Maggie’s children. Her real children. The whole rotten lot of them were looking at each other like it was a hilarious secret.
They made me go upstairs. They made me go into that room. There was a lantern. One of those old-fashioned ones. It had a weird light inside it. Not like a flame. They were laughing at me. They said it was one of Maggie’s children. Jessica Matthews, that’s what they called it. Then that ginger girl opened the lantern and the light wobbled out. It just hovered. Then the girl opened the window, and it went out to the fens.
Tasha: What on earth was going on? Still, who knows what kind of trickery they had.
Claudia: The months went by. Summer cooled into Autumn. And still no Laura. She wasn’t even writing home anymore. Sarah couldn’t fool her parents forever. She fessed up. Her parents were horrified. And that was without hearing the tale of Maggie’s child, the strange light.
Tasha: Mr Jonson phoned Mardle House. A cheery voice answered. He had to speak to his daughter. Now. The receiver was passed to someone else. But it wasn’t Laura, it was Maggie.
Claudia: What did Mr Jonson mean he wanted to talk to his daughter? Wasn’t Laura with him? Wasn’t she home? She’d left Mardle weeks ago. Of course, Maggie was certain – she’d driven Laura to the station herself.
Tasha: The Jonsons were frantic. They called the police. PC Plod pootled over. But there wasn’t much the police could do. Laura was seventeen now. He took notes but made no promises.
Claudia: Mr Jonson wasn’t having that. The next morning, him and Sarah hit the road. Norfolk ahoy. It was a long drive from Bristol. Finally, they reached Lure police station.
Tasha: But the police were as much use as a chocolate teapot. Not this again. How many times did they have to tell people – Maragret Walsham was a pillar of the community. Of course, teens were going to move on from Mardle. The police were fed up with these blinking parents.
Claudia: Fed up? Had other teenagers gone missing?
Tasha: The policeman had had it. He wasn’t listening to anymore of this rot. He got enough of it from that Michael Matthews.
Claudia: Sarah ears pricked up. She told her dad about Maggie’s child, the strange light, Jessica Matthews. It was trickery. But what if a real Jessica Matthews had gone missing?
Tasha: They had to find that Michael Matthews. And they found him in the pub. The pub had become Michael’s natural habitat since his daughter had vanished, ten years previously. Folk had stopped listening to him. He never made any sense. Dark forces? Vanishing youths? He’d lost it.
Claudia: But Sarah and her dad listened. They went back to his. It was a total mess. There could’ve been lost cities under the mess. But Michael had heaps to say, so Sarah took notes.
Michael: Things ain’t right, but if you ask me, they ain’t never been right here. The village of Lure. Well, ain’t that the name for it – for she lures them in and then they don’t come back. Happened to my Jessica and now it’s happened to your girl, too. And her – Mother Maggie. Wicked as wicked, she is.
Dad: What do you think she did to our daughters?
Michael: You heard of Robert Walsham?
[Dad shakes his head.]
Michael: Thought not. You not being from these parts and all. Well, he was what we call a Fenland Tiger. Brutal, he was. It was back in the draining times. Course lots of folk didn’t want their way of life ruined, and who can blame them. But he murdered, and he hanged for it. He left a wife behind. Not much is said about her, but who does she remind you of?
[Michael passes a book to Dad. Dad shakes his head and hands it to me]
Me: She’s the spit of Mother Maggie.
Michael: She ain’t the spit. She’s her.
Dad: What on earth are you talking about?
Michael: That Robert Walsham – he reckoned he’d found the secret to eternal life. Know what that secret was?
[Dad gestures]
Michael: It was the fens themselves.
[Dad scoffs]
Me: They had a song. Something like – give yourself to the waters, give yourself to the peat, give yourself to the mist, and you will never grow old.
[Dad shakes head]
Michael: Don’t want to listen to me? Try Kevin Rocca. He’s looking into all this. He’s going to expose it all.
[Michael hands Dad a business card]
Claudia: Kevin Rocca was a half hour drive. He lived in a terrace house in the nearest big town. A wiry fella. He smoked and eyed them suspiciously. Then he let them in. Did they really want to be part of this? They had a choice to make. If they had any brains, they’d go home.
Tasha: It was their last chance to turn back, but they stayed. Michael put out his cigarette. He made them sit down.
Claudia: He gave them a list of names. Many names. Names of missing teenagers. Teenagers like Laura who trusted Margaret Walsham, who called her Mother Maggie, who moved into Mardle House. And had never moved out.
Tasha: Sarah’s blood chilled. So many names. So many young people. How could the police possibly ignore this?
Claudia: But then she saw the dates next to the names. Teens had vanished in the 1930s. Mother Maggie couldn’t be more than mid-fifties. Back then, she’d have been a child herself. Did she witness terrible acts that led her down a dark path?
Tasha: Sarah turned the page over. More names. More missing folk. In the 1870s, and the 1820s, then all the way back to the 17th century.
Claudia: What on earth was going on? Was this a family of serial killers? Were they carrying on Robert Walsham’s legacy?
Tasha: But Kevin laughed. Robert didn’t need no help with his legacy. He had that covered. Hadn’t they heard about the sightings of him? He wasn’t a ghost. He wasn’t a spirit. He’d risen out of the marsh and throttled men to death.
Claudia: Kevin passed Sarah an open book. ‘The Haunted Fens’ by James Clopton.
You could call Mardle House the keeper of the fens, for no harm can come to these wetlands while it stands watch. Those who have arrived here with ill intentions have met Robert Walsham, the most fearsome of the Fenland Tigers, and they have had to answer to him. He has been their judge and executioner. But there are those that have escaped his swift and brutal justice. Simon Tyrell, for one.
In the Summer of 1787, Mardle House had been empty for decades, or so the villagers of Lure believed. The three Tyrell brothers, Simon, Oliver and Martin, had drifted up from Hampshire. Three brothers and yet not a single day of honest work between them, for they were footpads and thieves, and they thought Mardle House was theirs for the taking. They arrived as the sun was lowering in the July sky, but only Simon returned to the village. He staggered into the inn and cowered in a corner. He said a man had risen up out of the marshes. A great and terrible figure. A man in a tricorn hat. He’d seized Simon’s brothers and strangled them to death.
Claudia: Sarah closed the book. She didn’t believe that nonsense. The Walshams were a family of murderers. They’d killed throughout the centuries. They’d killed her sister.
Tasha: But Kevin shook his head. None of those people on the list had been murdered. In fact, none of them were dead.
Claudia: Mr Jonson was livid. What utter tosh! He stormed out with Sarah trailing behind. It was too late to drive home so they had an Indian takeaway and then found a local B&B.
Tasha: Sarah was done in. But sleep took a long time coming her way.
Claudia: Not a surprise considering her sister was either murdered and laying in a watery grave. Or ever living and hanging out with Mr Murderer himself, Robert Walsham. And what if this behatted bogey man was headed their way?
Tasha: Indeed. Sarah saw the witching hour. Then two o’clock. Then three AM. Finally, she closed her eyes, but no peaceful slumber claimed her. She dreamed.
Claudia: On waking, she grabbed her notepad.
I dreamed of the fens last night. I was at Mardle. I was in the drawing room at the window. I was alone there. I gazed at the marshes as the dusk reached over from the corners of the sky. Then I was outside in a starless night. The only light came from the fens. Will-o-the-wisps danced away from me. I took a step onto the fens. It was boggy underfoot, but I managed to pick my way along. I followed the wisps, but they kept dancing away from me. I had to follow them. I couldn’t turn back. Hands reached up from the peat and grabbed at me. So many hands. I struggled but I couldn’t escape. They pulled me down into the marshes.
Claudia: Suddenly, there was a knock on her door. It was her dad. She needed to hurry up and get dressed. They were leaving in five.
Tasha: Sarah protested. It didn’t feel right to go home, to give up on Laura so easily. If someone had hurt them, Laura would’ve dragged the villain into the police station herself.
Claudia: But her dad had no intention of giving up. They weren’t going home. They were going to Mardle.
Tasha: Sarah was bricking it, but she put on a brave face. She didn’t mention her dream. Her dad drove fast, his face severe. Then the fens appeared, unfolding to the horizon. The same fens she’d dreamed. Sarah clutched her bag. They were going to Mardle House, to Mother Maggie, to Robert Walsham.
Claudia: But someone had beaten them to it. They turned the corner and saw flashing blue lights. Five police cars were on the drive. And there was Mother Maggie, handcuffed, and being led down the steps, being shoved into the back of a car.
Tasha: This was BBC news that night.
To the vulnerable young people she rescued, Margaret Walsham was a second mother, perhaps an ideal mother? One who never spoke a cross word, who understood how they felt, and who had all the answers. But far from being a salvation, Mardle House had a cruel legacy that is only now coming to light. A legacy that the so-called Mother Maggie was continuing. She was arrested this morning on multiple charges of murder. The total number of her victims has yet to be confirmed. The local community is in shock. In the oncoming days many questions will need to be answered. How was Margaret Walsham able to get away with it for so long?
Claudia: Margaret was charged with the murders of eighty-three young people.
Tasha: She became the most hated woman in the country. She’d taken the lives of eighty-three young people. And she wouldn’t even do their loved ones the decency of revealing where their bodies were buried.
Claudia: In fact, she wouldn’t speak at all. But soon other details emerged. Things found at Mardle House. Centuries old prayer books. And Margaret’s own notebooks.
Tasha: She’d been running a cult. She’d brainwashed the teens. Then she’d killed them.
Claudia: But where were they? It wasn’t easy to hide eighty-three bodies. Or was it? Police started looking towards the fens. The bogs, the marshes, the waters. How many innocents did they hide?
Tasha: But still Margaret Walsham wouldn’t speak.
Claudia: The police had had it. They told her they would drain every inch of her beloved fens and they wouldn’t stop until they’d found every single body.
Tasha: That evening, a man was seen walking through Norwich. A man in a tricorn hat. He carried an empty lantern. Passersby said he was heading towards the prison.
Claudia: In the morning, Margaret was found dead in her cell.
Tasha: The police swore it wouldn’t stop them. Their team arrived at Mardle House.
Claudia: PC Osbourne was a steady fella. It took a lot to spook him. He stepped carefully on the fens. Something brushed his boot. He reached down and touched a hand. A warm hand. He jumped back as a young woman rose out of the marsh.
Tasha: She staggered towards him, gasping. She said she’d been lost out on the fens for years. That she’d drifted and drifted.
Claudia: Then a young lad climbed out of the waters.
Tasha: Kevin Rocca was right. The teens weren’t dead.
Claudia: None of the names on his list were dead. They climbed out of the marshes in their hundreds. Some had been in there for weeks, others for centuries. And all had the same story.
Tasha: All had been floating out on the fens.
Claudia: They talked and shivered. The police phoned for ambulances, for back up. Then they all fell silent. Out on the marshes was a grim figure. A man in a tricorn hat. He held a lantern with a glowing light. They watched as he slowly sank into the peat.
Tasha: Laura went home. At first, she was quiet and withdrawn. Family holidays followed. Sarah took a gap year to stay with her sister. She never let her out of her sight. And slowly, very slowly, Laura became herself again.
Claudia: Laura was one of the lucky ones. She’d only been in the fens for a couple of months. Others had been there for years, for decades, for centuries.
Tasha: Jessica Matthews had been a will-o-the-wisp for ten years while her body had lain in the peat. Now she was back home. But how strange to be in her body now. How curious to walk instead of float. The world was harsh and uncomfortable.
Claudia: This was her diary.
Dad tries his best, but he can’t help me. He forces himself to be all cheerful, but it just makes me feel guilty. I wish they’d left me in the fens. I was home and now I’m not, and I don’t know how to get back, except when I dream. But I always wake up. I wake up crying.
Claudia: Things didn’t get better for Jessica. Her homesickness grew. Then one evening, a man was seen walking through Lure. He had a tricorn hat and an empty lantern. He was spotted later, heading towards the fens. But this time, his lantern held a ghostly light.
Tasha: Jessica’s dad found her dead body. He knew she’d gone back to the fens. At dusk, he drove to Mardle House. There out on the marshes was a will-o-the-wisp, floating out to the horizon.
Claudia: The other members of Mardle House fared poorly. Those that had been in the marshes for centuries soon ailed. And every time, the man with the lantern was seen before they died.
Tasha: But Laura healed. She went to evening classes and got her O Levels. Then it was on to nursing college. And if sometimes, there was a pang in her heart she ignored it. And if she dreamed of mists and waterways, she woke and tried to forget.
Claudia: But she knew one day, the longing would become too great. And then a man in a tricorn hat would come for her. And carry her soul home.
First published in Luna Station Quarterly
A Flood on the Fens by Robert Farren