WELCOME to Haunted Wirral, a feature series written by world-famous psychic researcher, Tom Slemen for the Globe.

In this latest tale, a very unusual opportunity ends in a trip back in time.

Many years ago at a book-signing event in Waterstones, I met a man who told me what appeared to be a very far-fetched story.

I've had to change a few names for legal reasons.

In September 1984 a 32-year-old habitual criminal named Mike was serving a long sentence for armed robbery at one of our local prisons when he was told he had visitors.

Mike was sporting a black eye at the time after he'd had a run-in with one of the jail barons, and being a known violent man who was well-versed in the martial arts, he was escorted from his cell by three burly warders and taken to the Governor's office.

The Governor was dismissed by the sharply-dressed visitors but the three warders remained.

One of the visitors told the prisoner: "Hello Mike – I am Mr Proctor, and my colleague here is Mr Jones. You'll obviously be wondering why you've been brought here.

"I am going to offer you a very unusual opportunity, and I guarantee the proposition won't sink in at first, and that’s okay.

"I’ll explain just what we want till the penny drops, and of course, if you agree to the request, and if it all goes to plan, we will release you immediately from prison, and you will receive five thousand pounds.’

"What?" Mike asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Mr Proctor returned a bad attempt at a smile and continued. "The only caveat is that you must sign the Official Secrets Act, and you must not breathe a word of the operation to another living soul – or there will be dire consequences; very dire consequences."

"What on earth do you want me to do?" Mike wondered out loud.

"We want you to be a sort of guinea pig;" said Proctor, "it's a strange one this but here goes. Near to a former RAF base near Hooton, there is a shed, and in that shed there is something – well, the only way to describe it – is an opening to somewhere.

"People have gone through this opening and have not returned. We have sent a sort of robot into it with cameras – and it vanished, never to be seen again."

"I don't understand," said Mike, trying to take in the bizarre information, "an opening to where?"

"We don't know, but the idea is we send you in, attached to a cable, and you go through the thing – and if anything remotely detrimental to your safety should occur, we yank you back.

"The best thing would be to show you the place and you can talk to some experts who can explain it all better than me."

"You're not lying or anything – and this isn’t some trick to set me up for something shady?" Mike queried.

"Mike," sighed Proctor, "you've been reading too many James Bond books; all that cloak and dagger rubbish is fiction."

"Like what they did to the General Belgrano?" quipped Mike, and Proctor glared at him.

Proctor persuaded Mike to accompany him and Mr Jones to the shed – which was more of an old abandoned hangar not far from the Vauxhall Motor plant.

The hole they wanted Mike to go through – located in a dark corner of the building – didn't show that day.

Mike was taken to the place six more times, and it was seventh time lucky. There were white-coated scientists watching the space where the 'invisible hole to somewhere' was now 'live'.

Mike was equipped with a small powerful walkie-talkie, a miniature video camera, and a tracking device. They reneged on tethering him to a cable and didn't say why.

At 3:15pm, Mike took a deep breath and walked into the space where the hole was – and thought a trap door had opened under his feet.

He found himself falling, and there was a blue flash of light.

Mike hit the pavement of a redbrick terraced street and rolled, and he could hear a dog barking at him and the jangling rendition of The Teddy Bear's Picnic coming from an ice cream van.

Two children pushing a crude soap box go-kart looked at him as he got up, and Mike ignored the snapping little dog at his heels and was just glad to be alive.

He looked up at the street sign: Erskine Road.

Mike spoke into the walkie-talkie he'd been given – but it was just white noise – no one replied.

He then noticed the old cars parked on Poulton Road round the corner – a Ford Anglia, a Volkswagen Beetle, a Standard Vanguard, and a Morris J2 Post Office Telephones van; the first indication something wasn’t quite right.

Mike soon learned the truth when he went into a newsagent and looked at the date on all of the newspapers: Friday, August 12, 1966.

He had travelled just over eight miles north of that hole near Hooton to Erskine Road, Wallasey – eighteen years in the past.

According to Mike, he could not find a way back to 1984 – and too the promised five grand.

He travelled to Erskine Road, hoping he'd somehow go back the way he came, but nothing happened.

He suffered a nervous breakdown after becoming involved in the psychedelic drug scene of 1967.

His video camera, tape-recorder and walkie talkie were stolen, and no one – except a girl he ended up marrying – believed his 'way out' time-travel story.

Mike ended up moving to Australia but made many trips to Wirral until he passed away a few years ago.

All I am left with is a tantalizing story.

He was indeed given an early release from prison in 1984, but I can find out no more.

• All Tom Slemen’s books and audiobooks are on Amazon.