Halloween, without the plastic graveyard

There is usually a moment in Halloween decorating when someone suggests putting a skeleton in the bath. By then the spiders have reached the lampshades, the windows are covered in webbing and finding somewhere to put a cup requires negotiations. The house has acquired a personality, certainly, though it may be one you would rather not live with.

I like a little bad behaviour at Halloween. A black paper moth under a rather serious landscape painting, for instance, or a bowl of fruit so dark it looks faintly suspect. The pleasure comes from noticing something odd in familiar surroundings. Keep the furniture, the books and the lamps you use every evening, then give a few of them an accomplice.

For this seasonal house, we have followed that thought from a brick doorstep to an aubergine sitting room, with supper in the dining room and a last drink among the plants. There is enough theatre for a party, but nobody needs to perch on a coffin. You can borrow a single corner of the scheme. In a small flat, a good table and a slightly disreputable bunch of flowers could do the whole job.

The doorstep is the place to be generous. People see it briefly, often from the pavement, so a branch with a proper outline does more than a dozen small decorations. Here, copper leaves rise from an old terracotta pot beside the dark door. An oxblood ribbon catches the light below them; at the base, a few squash repeat the colours of the brick and stone.

Choose them as you might choose fruit for a bowl: a fat orange pumpkin, something pale and ribbed, a smaller dark green one. Different shapes make the group look gathered. There is no need to carve every face, although one absurd grin would be entirely welcome. This is Halloween, after all, and good taste should be able to survive a joke.

Keep the centre of the step clear and put the light where it helps you find the key. A lantern beside the pot is useful; six lanterns across the threshold become an obstacle course. For an exposed doorstep, check that both the lantern and its light are suitable for outdoor use. A sheltered doorway makes a much easier setting for delicate foliage and ribbon.

The hall should be a pleasure to come home to, even when there are bats above the door. Cream walls and sage panelling keep this one light; a glazed brass lantern picks out the chequered floor and the broad stair runner. Beneath the console, a pumpkin glows through a crescent moon and two little stars. It is safely out of the route to the stairs, which is more than can be said for some Halloween guests.

Give the walls something worth stopping for. Here, Floral Alchemy brings pink and yellow flowers into the scheme, while the smaller Golden Bough print offers a tangle of drooping willow branches. Both are drawn from our Shop collection. The oak frames sit comfortably with the older console, and the pictures give the hall colour without asking every cushion and ribbon to match.

On the console, burgundy dahlias and copper leaves gather around an aged-black vase, with a dark ribbon trailing down its side. The cloudy mirror and turned wooden lamp can stay just as they are. Add a few paper bats flat against the wall, test any removable fixings first, and keep the floor and stairs properly lit. The keys still need their dish; the post will arrive tomorrow.

The sitting room can afford to be quieter. Aubergine walls, brown velvet and a worn patterned rug give this one plenty of autumn colour before a decoration arrives. The additions are confined to the mantel: smoky glass, a bowl of figs and a black moth that appears to have developed an interest in landscape painting.

I would keep the comfortable chair exactly where it is. Halloween schemes have a habit of sacrificing the best seat to a display, just when the evening calls for people to settle in. Leave the little table within reach, keep the reading lamp on and throw a blanket over the sofa arm where somebody can actually use it.

You need not repaint a pale room to get this depth. Bring tobacco brown, plum or dark olive into a cushion cover, a throw or the flowers, then repeat one of those colours elsewhere. Against cream walls, a dark vessel has a particularly clear outline. A few reflective pieces will catch the lamplight; covering every surface in black will mostly make your possessions harder to find.

This is where I would spend the effort. A Halloween table has permission to look rather indulgent, especially if the rest of the house has exercised restraint. Earthy linen falls over the oak table, striped napkins interrupt the brown, and amber glasses sit beside black plates. The colours belong to an autumn meal even before the moth lands on a place setting.

Flowers can be almost embarrassingly rich: plum dahlias, burgundy chrysanthemums, the odd crooked stem. Keep the bowl low enough to see across. A tall arrangement that looks marvellous in a photograph can become an entire evening of leaning sideways to speak to someone.

Pears, grapes and pomegranates bring the darker colours down to the table. Put them in a couple of shallow dishes, with a plate beneath any cut fruit, and leave space for the food. The temptation to run a continuous arrangement from end to end is understandable, but supper eventually has to arrive. A serving bowl should not need its own removal team.

A three-arm candelabra gives the centre some height without demanding a forest of tapers. We would use candle-effect lights for this scheme, especially around paper details, flowers and foliage. Battery candles make it easier to enjoy the table without watching sleeves and stems all evening. If you choose real candles, keep them well clear of anything that can burn and never leave them unattended. London Fire Brigade's candle advice is worth following.

The moth need only be a small shape cut from black paper and set loosely on a napkin. Remove it before eating. One at each place gives people something to notice as they sit down, and it costs very little. The linen, glasses and candlesticks can return to ordinary duty the following day.

After supper, the conservatory earns its place in the evening. The garden has receded into darkness, while the lamps and leaves inside begin to appear in the glass. A room that spent the afternoon looking out now seems to hold the whole gathering within its reflections.

That change is particularly good at Halloween. Three paper bats cross the glass, and a carved pumpkin grins from beside the far end of the sofa. Burgundy dahlias fill a jug tied with black ribbon; the small squash on the table leave room for a drink and a bowl of grapes. Against the dark garden, these few additions are enough to announce the occasion.

Bring the light down beside the seats. A shaded lamp makes the throw and cushions visible, while a lantern adds a smaller point of light nearer the floor, safely out of the way. Leave enough clear table for drinks. If there is only room for one sofa and a chair, give them breathing space rather than filling the gaps with pumpkins.

Comfort has the final say. A cold conservatory will empty quickly, however lovely the photographs. If yours is not comfortable at night, arrange the chairs in the adjoining room and enjoy the view through the glass instead. These ideas work just as well beside a large window; you do not need an extension to put a lamp among the leaves. Our conservatory room study considers the seating and everyday pieces behind this kind of space.

Start with the cupboard before the shopping basket. Old glass, a plain jug and the napkins you bring out for a good dinner may already give you most of this table. Where there is a gap, the pieces below have a use beyond the occasion: a lantern for evening light, a throw for the sofa, a vessel that can hold branches in October and flowers in spring.

These are UK Shop selections. The retailer photographs show the actual products; the room scenes suggest how to combine them rather than document an installed purchase. Check sizes and finishes on each Shop page, including whether a lamp's shade is supplied. Candleholders and lanterns do not imply that a candle or battery light is included.

I would stop well before every surface joins in. Webbing across the bookcase makes the books difficult to reach, and another pumpkin on the coffee table often occupies the one place left for a drink. If you love an orange-and-purple party, commit to it somewhere deliberately. Scattering a little of everything around the house usually leaves the rooms looking undecided.

The best test is an ordinary evening. Can you still sit in the good chair, find the light switch and put supper on the table? If so, there is room for the joke. Keep the moth, let the flowers get a little unruly and leave the comfortable things alone. Tomorrow morning, the house should be easy company again, with a bowl of pears to finish and a tablecloth worth keeping.