Hello and welcome back to paranormal activity with me, Yvette Fielding, and to another chapter in our ongoing murders that haunt series.

In recent episodes, we've explored the chilling legacies of killers whose crimes left emotional scars on the places that they touched from Mary Blandi's poisoned

cup of tea to the criminal empire of Al Capone to the disturbing histories of Mary Anne

Cotton, Amelia Dyer and the infamous architect of horror H.H. Holmes. Tonight, however,

our story is quieter and perhaps more unsettling because of it. In May

1934 in the peaceful Lincolnshire village of Kirk Beyond Bain, a husband sat down to eat what should

have been an ordinary meal, a plate of corned beef prepared by his wife. Within hours, he was dead. His killer was

Ethel Major, a woman driven by suspicion, jealousy and resentment. She would become the only

woman ever executed at H.M. Prison Hull. But the story did not end at the gallows, because in the years

that followed, people began to report strange things, whispers in prison corridors, an uneasy

silence in a village home, and a solitary figure seen walking beside a churchyard wall long after dark. Tonight we ask the question, when a life

ends in betrayal and violence, what lingers behind? Welcome to another episode of paranormal

activity. As ever, I like to start the show with a fact or fiction. Listen

out for the answer at the end. As this week's episode is all about the case of Ethel Major, I want to

know whether it's fact or fiction that the haunting stories began immediately after the murder. Is that

fact or fiction? Find out at the end of the show.

Lincolnshire in the 1930s was a place defined by quiet rhythms, flat fields stretched for

miles across the countryside, broken only by hedgerows, farmhouses and small villages where everyone knew everyone else.

Kirk Beyond Bain was exactly that sort of village, the kind of place where news travelled quickly

and strangers were immediately noticed. Life moved slowly. Farming dominated the landscape and evenings were often spent around kitchen tables rather than embeustling streets.

It was a community built on familiarity, which is precisely why the events on May 34 struck the village so deeply.

Arthur Major was known locally as a steady man,

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