Woodstown House is a 19th-century residence positioned just above the wide strand of Woodstown Beach. Though records of its earliest years are limited, the house reflects clear Regency influences: tall sash windows, symmetrical proportions, and a layout designed as much for quiet coastal leisure as for genteel display.

By the mid-20th century, the house had become a favoured retreat for visitors seeking privacy by the sea. Its most famous guest arrived in June 1967, when Jacqueline Kennedy and her children stayed here as guests of Lady Margaret “Megs” Dungan. The visit drew international attention, but for locals, Woodstown’s reputation ran deeper than its connection to global headlines.

Staff who lived or worked in the house often spoke of its atmosphere — a sense that the building held older, unspoken stories beneath its polished surface.

In the early 2000s, a carer named Chrissy stayed at Woodstown House while caring for an elderly resident. She arrived by a long, tree-lined drive and immediately sensed that the house was unlike anywhere she had worked before. The rooms were large, formal and impeccably decorated, yet the air felt heavy, as though the house were watching her. Nothing unusual happened on her first night, but she described a subtle tension that never left: “As if the house was holding its breath.”

The kitchen was the room Chrissy avoided most. She could never shake the feeling that someone else was present just out of sight — that someone had stepped out moments before she entered, or was about to step in behind her. She hurried her work there every time.

Only on her final day did she learn that staff before her had spoken of the same sensation.

When a gardener from the estate drove Chrissy into Waterford to catch her bus home, she mentioned the strange atmosphere in the kitchen. His reaction was immediate: “Ah, so you felt it too.” He told her that long-standing staff whispered about a death – possibly a murder – said to have taken place in the kitchen many years earlier. No written record survives, but the story persisted among those who worked in the house. The gardener also described an experience of his own. On nights when the family required him early the next morning, he sometimes slept in one of the small annex rooms beside the main house. On one of those nights, he woke suddenly and realised he was not alone. A figure lay in the second bed across the room — pale-faced, perfectly still, watching him. When he fled, the figure vanished. He refused to sleep in the annex again.

The haunting was not limited to one or two people. The woman Chrissy cared for once woke to find her bedclothes being pulled steadily downwards, as though tugged by invisible hands. She retrieved them only to find them crumpled at the foot of the bed.

Another staff member, Catherine, saw two figures floating along the driveway, dressed in old-fashioned clothing. She heard tapping noises from empty rooms and whispered conversations between a man and a woman.