In what used to be the children’s room, at Rosedown Plantation, it is said that a child ghost sometimes plays pranks on unsuspecting visitors. Photos: The Star/Chester Chin
The hair at the back of my neck is standing on ends. The corridor ahead, with its Art Deco wallpaper, is cold and dimly lit. As I move further away from the sound of chatter and clinking glasses at the bar behind me, I can’t help but feel as if someone – or rather, something – is watching me.
But I have had a fair amount of wine, and looking for the restroom trumps this unsettling feeling. Upon returning to my seat on the ground floor of the Diamond Grill restaurant, I find my dinner party eagerly listening to a roguishly handsome man in a dark dress shirt and matching pants.
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