Daisy May Cooper is being haunted. Her first ghost sighting was two years ago – a disembodied pair of child’s legs, running around the bedroom of her new-build house. Then there was an invisible presence, tugging her duvet off her. She’s been hearing voices, too – a Spanish woman, and an ethereal voice in a hospital room offering words of comfort. “It’s like a veil has been lifted,” she says.
You sound crackers, I say. Not something I’d usually voice in an interview – but there’s an infectious, gossipy ease to being in Cooper’s company. “I do! Completely,” she sighs. Then she opens the door of the glass room we’re in, and shouts down the spiral stairs to the photo studio below for her partner to bring his phone up. She wants me to hear something.
