'No, Alice! Don't you dare!' I warned. 'If the Spook found out he'd send you back to the Hursts in the blink of an eye. Anyway, it's just not worth the risk. Something might go badly wrong.'
Alice shook her head. 'But it ain't right, Tom. Something's got to be done sooner or later.'
'Well, later rather than sooner. You won't do anything about the herb tea, will you? Promise me.'
Alice smiled. T promise, but I think you should talk to Old Gregory about it. Will you do that?'
'It's not the right time to do it now, when he's still ill. But I will when I think the time is right. He won't listen though. This has been going on for years. Why would he change it now?'
'Just speak to him, that's all I ask.'
So I agreed, even though I knew I'd be wasting my time and just make the Spook angry for nothing. But Alice was starting to worry me. I wanted to trust her but she certainly had a bee in her bonnet about Meg.
The Spook came down late in the afternoon and managed to eat some broth, then spent the evening wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire. When I went up to bed, he was still there, and Alice was helping Meg to wash the pots ready for breakfast.
The following morning, which was a Tuesday, the Spook gave me a short Latin lesson. He didn't look too well: he tired very quickly and went back to bed, so I was left to study by myself for the rest of the day.
Then, late in the afternoon, there was a knock on the back door. I went to answer it and found Shanks, the Spook's delivery man, waiting there. He had a very nervous expression on his face and kept glancing over my left shoulder, as if he expected somebody to appear behind me at any moment.
'I've brought Mr Gregory's order,' he said, nodding back towards his pony with its load of brown sacks. 'And I've got a letter for you. It was delivered to the wrong house and they were away on business. They've just got back so it must be over a week old.'
I looked at him in amazement. Who could be sending me a letter here? He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a crumpled envelope and handed it to me. I was worried because I recognized my brother Jack's handwriting on the envelope and knew it would have cost a small fortune to send the letter by the post wagon: it had to be something serious. It was bad news for certain.
I tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter, which was short and to the point.
Dear Tom,
Our dad 's taken? bad ways again. He's sinking fast. All his sons are here but youu, so you'd best come home right away.
Jack
Jack always was blunt and those words made my heart drop right down into my boots. I couldn't believe that Dad was going to die. I couldn't even imagine it. The world wouldn't be the same without him. And if Jack's letter had been down in the village for a week, waiting to be read, I might already be too late. While
Shanks unloaded our provisions, I ran inside, went up to the Spook's bedroom and, with shaking hands, showed him the letter. He read it, then gave a long sigh.
'I'm sorry to hear your bad news,' he said. 'You'd best get off home right away. At a time like this your mam will need you by her side.'
'What about you?' I asked. 'Will you be all right?'
'Don't worry about me, I'll be right as rain. No, you get off while there's some daylight left. You'll want to be down off the moor long before nightfall.'
When I went down to the kitchen, Alice and Meg were whispering together. Meg smiled when she saw me. 'I'm going to make you both a special supper tonight,' she said.
'I won't be here for supper, Meg,' I told her. 'My dad's ill and I've got to go home for a few days.'
'Sorry to hear that, Billy. Snow's on its way for sure, so wrap up warm against the cold. Frostbite can make your fingers fall off.'
'How bad is it, Tom?' Alice asked, looking concerned, so I handed her the letter and she read it quickly.
'Oh, Tom! I'm so sorry' she said, coming across to give me a hug. 'Maybe it won't be quite as it seems ...'
But when our eyes met I could tell that she was just saying that to make me feel better. We both feared the worst.
I got ready to set off for home. I didn't bother with my bag -1 left that in the study - but I took my staff; in my pocket, in addition to a big piece of crumbly yellow cheese for the journey, I had my tinderbox and a candle stub. You never knew when they might come in useful.
After saying goodbye to the Spook, I walked to the back door with Alice. To my surprise, rather than saying farewell then, she tugged her coat from the hook and pulled it on.
'I'll come down to the end of the clough with you,' she said, giving me a sad smile.
So we walked down together. We didn't speak. I was numb and fearful, while Alice seemed really subdued.
When we reached the bottom of the clough and I turned towards Alice to say goodbye, to my surprise, I saw that there were tears in her eyes. 'What's wrong, Alice?'
'Ain't going to be here when you get back. Old Gregory's sending me away. I'm off to stay at Moor View Farm again.'
'Oh, I'm sorry, Alice. He didn't say anything to me about that. I thought everything was all right.'
'He told me last night. Says I'm getting too close to Meg.'
'Too close?'
'I think it might be because he saw us chatting together, that's all. Who knows what's going on inside Old Gregory's head? Just thought I'd tell you. So that you'll know where to find me when you get back.'
'I'll call in to see you first thing,' I told her. 'Even before I go back to the Spook's house.'
'Thanks, Tom,' Alice said, taking my left hand briefly to give it an affectionate squeeze.
With that, I left her and continued down, pausing once to look back. She was still there watching me, so I gave her a wave. Alice hadn't offered any final words of comfort. She hadn't mentioned my dad. We both knew there was nothing to say and I dreaded what I would find at home.
Dusk came quickly, helped by a bank of thick, heavy cloud from the north. It was getting dark as I left the heights of the moor; somehow I managed to lose my bearings and missed the track I'd intended to take.
Down below was a copse of trees and a low drystone wall with a small building some way beyond it -probably a farmhand's cottage, which meant that there would most likely be a small road or track leading from it down the hill. I clambered up onto the wall but hesitated before dropping down on the other side. For one thing it was well over six feet high and I discovered I was now looking down at a large graveyard. It wasn't a cottage in the distance either. It was a small chapel.
I shrugged and dropped down among the gravestones. After all, it might be a bit creepy but I was the Spook's apprentice and I had to get used to places like this even if it was almost dark. I began to weave my way through the graves, moving downhill, and it wasn't long before my feet were crunching along a gravel path leading towards the chapel.
It should have been straightforward. The path led down the side of the chapel; beyond that, it meandered through the gravestones towards two huge yew trees which formed an archway over a gate. I should have kept walking but there was a glimmer of light showing in the small stained-glass chapel window, evidence of the flickering of a candle. And as I passed the door, I noticed that it was slightly ajar and I distinctly heard a voice from within.
A voice that called out a single word: 'Tom!'
It was a deep voice, a man's voice, a voice that was used to being obeyed. I didn't recognize it.
Even though it seemed unlikely, I felt that I was being called. And who could be inside the chapel who knew my name, or that I was passing by in the dark at that moment? There shouldn't have been anyone in the chapel at that time of night. It would only be used occasionally, for short services before burials.
Almost before I realized what I was doing, I went up to the chapel door, opened it and walked in. To my surprise there was nobody there, but immediately I noticed something really strange about the layout inside. Instead of rows of benches facing towards the altar, with an aisle between them
, the benches were in four long rows against the wall and they were facing towards a single large confessional box against the wall to my right, which had two large candles positioned like sentries at either side of it.
The confessional box had the usual two entrances, one for the priest and one for the penitent. A confessional box is really two rooms with a dividing screen so that, although the priest can hear confessions through a grille, he can't see the face of the person making the confession. But there was something strange here. Someone had removed the doors so that I was facing two oblongs of utter blackness.
As I stared towards the doors, feeling very uneasy, someone stepped out of the darkness of the priest's entrance on the left and walked towards me. He wore a cloak and a hood just like the Spook.
It was Morgan, although the voice that called me hadn't been his. Was there somebody else in the chapel? As he approached, I had a sudden feeling of intense cold. Not the routine cold that told me something from the dark was close. It was different somehow. It reminded me of the cold I'd experienced when facing the evil spirit called the Bane in Priestown.
'We meet again, Tom,' Morgan said with a faint, mocking smile. 'I'm sorry to hear the news about your father. But he had a good life. Death comes to us all in the end.'
My heart lurched inside my chest and I stopped breathing. How did he know about Dad's illness?
'But death isn't the end, Tom,' he said, taking another step towards me. 'And for a while we can still talk to the ones we love. Would you like to speak to your father? I could summon him for you now, if that's what you want...'
I didn't reply. What he was saying was only just starting to sink in. I felt numb.
'Oh, I'm sorry, Tom. Of course, you don't know, do you?' Morgan continued. 'Your father died last week.'
Mam's Room
Morgan smiled again, but my heart lurched up into my mouth and I was filled with panic: the world spun about me. Without thinking, I turned and ran for the door. Once through it, I continued on down the path, my feet cmnching on the gravel. When I reached the gate, I turned and looked back. He was standing in the open doorway of the chapel. His face was in darkness so I couldn't see his expression, but he lifted his left hand and waved to me. The sort of wave you might give to a friend.
I didn't wave back. I just opened the gate and carried on down the hillside, a mixture of thoughts and emotions running through my head. I was distraught to think that my dad might already be dead. Could Morgan be right about that? He was a necromancer, so had he summoned some ghost who'd told him that? I refused to believe it and tried to push it to the back of my mind.
And why had I run away? I should have stayed and told him what I thought of him. But a lump had surged into my throat and my legs had carried me through the door before I'd had time to think. It wasn't that I'd been afraid of him, even though it had been really creepy to hear him say things like that in the chapel, with candles flickering behind him. It was being confronted with news like that.
I don't remember much about the rest of the journey, apart from the fact that it seemed to be getting colder and windier. By the evening of the second day, the wind had veered to the north-east and the sky seemed heavy with snow.
Snow didn't actually start to fall until I was within half an hour of home. The light was beginning to fail but I knew the way like the back of my hand and it didn't hinder my progress. By the time I opened the gate to the yard there was a white blanket covering everything and I was chilled to the bone. Snow always makes everything seem quiet, but a special evening stillness seemed to have fallen over the farmhouse. I entered the yard and the stillness broke as the dogs began to bark.
There was nobody about, though a light was flickering in one of the back bedroom windows. Was I too late? My heart was down in my boots and I feared the very worst.
Then I saw Jack: he came stomping across the yard towards me. He was scowling, his bushy eyebrows meeting above his nose.
'What kept you?' he demanded angrily. 'It doesn't take over a week, does it? Our brothers have been and gone. And James lives halfway across the County! You were the only one not to arrive-'
'Your letter went to the wrong address. I got it a week late,' I explained. 'But how is he? Am I too late?'
I asked, holding my breath but already reading the truth in Jack's face.
Jack sighed and bowed his head as if unable to meet my eyes. When he raised his head again, his eyes were glinting with tears. 'He's gone, Tom,' he said softly, all the harshness and anger gone. 'He died peacefully in his sleep a week yesterday'
Before I knew it, he was hugging me and we were both crying. I was never going to see my dad again; never hear his voice, his old stories and wise sayings; never shake his hand or ask his advice; and the thought was unbearable. But as I stood there, I remembered someone who'd feel that loss even more than I did.
'Poor Mam,' I said, when I could finally speak again. 'How's she been?'
'Bad, Tom. Really bad,' Jack said, shaking his head sadly. 'I've never seen Mam cry before and it was a terrible sight to see. She was beside herself, didn't eat or sleep for days. And the day after the funeral she packed a bag and left, saying she had to get away for a while.'
'Where's she gone?'
Jack shook his head, his face filled with misery. T only wish I knew' he said.
I didn't say anything to Jack, but I remembered what Dad had once told me: that Mam had her own life to lead and that after he was dead and buried she'd probably return to her own country. And he'd said that when the time came I should be brave and let her go with a smile. I just hoped that she'd not gone already. Would she go without saying goodbye to me? I hoped not. I just had to see her again, even if it was for the last time.
It was the worst supper I could ever remember having at home.
It was so sad not having Mam and Dad at the table and I kept glancing at Dad's empty chair. The baby was already upstairs in her cot, so there were just the three of us, Jack, Ellie and me, sitting at the table and picking slowly at our food.
When I caught her eye, Ellie smiled sadly but was really quiet. I had a feeling that she wanted to say something to me but was biding her time.
'If s a really good hotpot, Ellie' I told her. 'I'm sorry to waste it but I can't eat much. I just don't feel hungry.'
'Don't worry, Tom' she said kindly. T understand. None of us have any appetite. Just eat what you can manage. It's important to keep your strength up at a time like this.'
'It's probably not the right time, but I wanted to say congratulations, you two. Last time I was here, Mam told me you're expecting another baby and that it's a boy'
Jack smiled sorrowfully, his voice subdued. 'Thanks, Tom. If only Dad could have lived to see his grandson born...' Then he cleared his throat as if he were about to say something important. 'Look' he began. 'Why don't you stay with us for a few days until the weather improves? You don't have to get back tomorrow, do you? The truth is, I could do with a bit of help on the farm. James stayed for a couple of days but he had to get back to work.'
James was the second oldest of my brothers; a blacksmith. I doubted that he'd stayed on after the funeral because Jack really needed help with the farmwork. It wasn't like spring planting, or the autumn harvest, when you used all the help you could get. No, Jack wanted me to stay for the same reason he'd needed James. Despite the fact that he hated spooks' business and wasn't usually happy to have me around, he needed me now to fill the emptiness, the loneliness of being here without Dad and Mam.
'I'd be glad to stay for a few days,' I told him with a smile.
'That's really good of you, Tom. I appreciate it,' he said, pushing his plate away even though he'd hardly cleared a third of it. 'I'll get off to bed now.'
'I'll be up later, love,' Ellie said to Jack. 'You don't mind if I stay down a while and keep Tom company, do you?'
'Not at all,' he said.
When he'd gone up, Ellie gave me a warm smile. She was as pretty as ever but she loo
ked sad and tired, the strain of the past week having taken its toll. 'Thanks for agreeing to stay a while, Tom,' she said. 'He needs to talk about the old times with one of his brothers. That's how you grieve, by talking it through over and over again. But I also think he needs you because he believes that if you're here, Mam's more likely to come back...'
I hadn't thought of that. Mam could sense things. She would know that I was staying at the farm. She really might come back to see me.
'I hope she does.'
'So do I, Tom. But listen, I want you to be very patient with Jack. You see, there's something he's not told you yet. There was a surprise in your dad's will. Something he didn't expect...'
I frowned. A surprise? What could that be? The whole family knew that once Dad died, Jack, as the eldest son, would inherit the farm. There was no point in dividing it up among the seven of us and making it smaller and smaller. It was the County tradition. It always went to the eldest son, with the farmer's widow being guaranteed a home for life.
'A pleasant surprise?' I asked uncertainly, not knowing what to expect.
'No, not the way Jack sees it. But I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Tom. He's only thinking of me and little Mary and, of course, his unborn son,' she said, smoothing her hand across her belly. 'You see, Jack hasn't inherited the whole house. One room has been left to you ...'
'Mam's room?' I asked, already guessing the answer. It was the room where Mam kept her private things; where she'd kept the silver chain that she'd given to me in the autumn.
'Yes, Tom,' Ellie said. 'That locked room directly below the attic. That room and everything contained within it. Even though Jack owns the house and land, you're always to be allowed access to that room and to stay there whenever you want. Jack went pale when the will was read. It means you could even live here, had you such a mind.'
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