My Favourite Holiday: Author Caroline Barry was spooked in the south of France

The swashbuckling Gothic tale is based on a forgotten story that terrorised 18th Century Dublin.

Previously a teacher of creative writing, Caroline is also a yoga instructor and lives in County Westmeath with her writer husband, Neil Richardson.

My first exotic holiday was to a little village in the south of France in my mid-twenties.

I was a working-class Dubliner and all my previous holidays had been ‘down the country’ to visit cousins.

In college I became friends with Fionnuala, who took me to meet her eccentric family, and they asked me on holiday to a house belonging to a London millionaire financier.

I was going to stay in a mansion, there was an outdoor pool and the house was surrounded by plum orchards and fields of sunflowers.

We flew into Bordeaux and drove to Duras. As we drove up the twisting driveway to the millionaire’s holiday home I remember being a little crestfallen. It was a farmhouse rather than a mansion.

The minute I got to the top of the stairs I realised I didn’t like the house. There was a feeling of anger or something dark. That first night was horrible – I hardly slept. The same the second and third nights.

The days were delicious, full of sight-seeing, littered with romantic castles perched on rocky outcrops and Cathar towns with old men playing boules on the village green.

One night there was a tap at my door. It was Fionnuala. She couldn’t sleep and was scared.

We sat up talking until 3am, when we turned off the light and tried to sleep. For a while I dozed, but then was woken by a whimpering sound.

Fionnuala called me and when I peeped over the sheets I saw what was upsetting her. There, at the end of our beds, floating in the dark, was a blue light.

It hovered steadily and was shaped like the tongue of a candle flame with a bright blue centre. It was about two inches long. We were petrified.

It drifted a little towards us and we squealed. It receded a fraction in response, but stayed at the end of the bed appearing to be engaged with our fear. At last it drifted towards the window and disappeared.

Years later we have discussed this night. Both of us are certain we saw a ghost light. It was one of my strangest experiences.

My favourite holiday: Author Jill Mansel loves to cruise