As a young child my daughter was a frequent visitor to Gilwell Park, a well-known campsite belonging to the Scout Association - significantly, scant metres on the ‘right' side of the boundary between Essex and Greater London.

She had been ‘under canvas' at Gilwell for perhaps 6 months before she was even born. By the time of this incident, when she was about 4, she knew her way around the 85 acres estate pretty well. We knew that if we couldn't immediately see her, she'd be with someone or other who could. My wife and I were amongst the volunteers who comprise most of the staff at Scout camps, and we as a family spent most weekends there.

This particular weekend was a ‘light' weekend for campers, which meant that we as Work Crew had plenty of opportunity to ‘spruce up' the campsite in general for a major event the following week, when there were several thousand visitors already booked in.

We set up out tent that weekend on an infrequently-used site, the idea being to leave the main sites unoccupied so that we could prepare effectively for the forthcoming event.

At one point I became aware of Marie nearby as I could hear her but not see her. She was talking to someone.

Knowing that there were only a limited number of Scouts booked in camping that weekend, I was curious to discover who she was with. I walked along a track leading off from our campsite to a similar glade beyond a dividing line of trees and bushes.

Marie sat on the grass with her back to me. She was weaving wild flowers into a sort of a wreath, which she was offering to someone whom she (apparently) could see, but I certainly couldn't. Not wishing to interrupt her imaginative play I crept away rather than interrupt, as she was obviously engrossed and enjoying herself.

A few minutes later I distinctly heard her say Goodbye" to someone - I assumed it to be her imaginary playmate - and before long she toddled into our campsite. On her head she wore a circlet of flowers which was definitely not the one I had seen her weaving.

"Daddy, my new friend gave me these, but then she said she had to go."

"Who's your new friend?"
"She didn't tell me her name, but she was sad, and she had funny clothes."

"Do you know where she's camping?"

"No, she lives in the house."

"What house?"

"Come on, I'll show you."

Taking me by the hand she led me along the path, past the unused campsite where I'd observed her playing. Around another bend we came to what I could tell were the remains of a building, but one which had not been in use for some time.

"She isn't there now, Daddy. She told me she had to go, but she'll come back soon."

This part of the site has never been used on a regular basis, and the buildings date from before the time Gilwell Park was bought by the Scout Association for use as their HQ.

What's a Scout Camp without a Camp Fire - and what's a Camp Fire without a yarn or mystery story?

I personally didn't know the story at the time, but there is a tradition of the ghost of a young girl at Gilwell Park.

The building my daughter showed me is all that remains of the original hall, which was destroyed by a fire years before the estate was sold to the Scout Association. The girl is known to have been one of those who died in the fire together with her brother. Although he was not present on the one occasion I witnessed, Marie tells me that she played with both brother and sister on several subsequent visits

I worked as a volunteer there for a number of years, but this was the first time I felt tempted to browse through the Gilwell Museum and Historical Records display. When I studied the available material I quickly discovered the story I have outlined here, and realised how closely it corresponded with what my daughter had described for me.

Rather than risk frightening Marie we decided not to raise the subject with her at the time, but wait until she was a little older. This wasn't the only weekend when she met her ‘friends', by the way: but she did on this occasion have the tangible ‘evidence' of the floral coronet which was not the one I observed her making. What convinced me, however, was the inclusion of a number of spring flowers - primroses - in a floral decoration which she was given in October ..................