The town of Datchet in Berkshire is perhaps not too well known, although its proximity to Windsor makes it a convenient watering hole for the thirsty.

It has been that way for years, hundreds of years. Lying along the side of the Thames, it has always been a stopping point for travellers and a tavern stood on the site at the time of the Domesday Book.

In a country famous for its historic pubs, inns and taverns, the tavern at Datchet does not offer anything special in the way of architecture. Its bay windows, with their small wooden panels, are pretty enough and the landlady goes to some trouble to add a touch of colour with hanging baskets.

As befits a pub of that age, there have been several reports of unexplained happenings. Landlords have reported creaking floorboards, sudden patches of cold and an atmosphere that sets dogs barking.

But for locals, there is another, far stranger reason for singling out the pub for attention.

According to a legend handed down from generation to generation, in the 19th century, a few men were drinking in the pub. A brawl broke out and tankards were flung to the ground, their contents splashing over the dirty floor.

One man’s daughter was outside, playing in the churchyard with some of her friends when they heard the sound of the fight. Realising that things were getting out of hand, she rushed to peer in through the small window panes and saw her father being slain, right before her very eyes. Her hand instinctively pressed against the glass pane, as she screamed hysterically for the murderer to stop. But it was too late. Her father was dead and all that remained was the sweaty, desperate hand print on the glass.

The image lasts for three to four days, resisting all efforts by patrons to breathe on it and wipe it away with the edgeof a sleeve

According to successive landlords, the imprint has been appearing for over 200 years. Some of them thought it was a prank of some sort; others thought it was a bit of a novelty. Many of them have tried to wipe it away, polishing furiously away on first one and then the other side of the glass. In desperation, others have replaced the glass pane but the handprint just reappears every few months or so.

The image lasts for three to four days, resisting all efforts by patrons to breathe on it and wipe it away with the edge of a sleeve. Others place their own palms on the imprint, trying to figure out who could have left it.

The window overlooks a small churchyard and the ground on that side of the building is slightly higher than the road level, so that the hand imprint is at roughly waist height from the outside.

Gary, who now lives in Malta, had been going to the Royal Stag for years. He would often just pop in there with his mates for a pint or two on his way home.

For 15 years, he had never seen anything strange himself, although he had heard all about the story.

And then one day, he went into the pub on the way back from the Guy Fawke’s festivities. It was there behind him, the sort of imprint you get when you place a slightly damp hand on glass.

He knew that sort of imprint well; it was the sort you leave on the coffee table that your mum always tells you off about.

Although he knew from all the stories he’d heard that the image could not be removed, he and his mates were drawn to it, anxious to touch it for themselves and see that it was not just a huge hoax.

As soon as he got home, Gary shook his wife awake to tell her about the ghostly image but she was too busy to go the next day. By the time she did get around to the pub, the imprint had already started to fade but she could still see the fingerprints quite clearly, their tips all that was left of the palm print.

The image had completely faded away by the next day but as the landlady would tell you, it would be back…

This is the 11th in a series of short stories The Sunday Times of Malta is running every Sunday. It is taken from The Unexplained Plus (Allied Publications) by Vanessa Macdonald. The first edition was published in 2001 and reprinted twice. It was republished, with added stories, as The Unexplained Plus. The Maltese version of the book, Ta’ Barra Minn Hawn (Klabb Kotba Maltin) is available from all leading bookstores and stationers and from www.bdlbooks.com.