Spellbound

by Anna Dale

  ‘What a whopper!’ Huffkin declared.

  ‘Jolly good catch for a beginner,’ said Humdudgeon.

  ‘Hmm,’ was the most effusive response that Athene could produce when Zach proudly showed her his fish.

  Crouched in the very back of the canoe, Athene felt so miserable that she could quite easily have howled. For a few precious days, she had been allowed to share a marvellous secret, but now her brother had discovered it too. What was even worse, the Gloam seemed to actually like him.

  The others were too occupied with baiting their hooks, watching for fish and sipping brew from a little leather flask, to notice that the weather was changing. Athene was the only one to see the storm clouds massing overhead, and the first of them to feel the raindrops landing in her hair. To start with, the big plump drops fell in dribs and drabs, but after a few minutes they pelted down like stones. If Zach had not been there, Athene would have been disappointed by the arrival of rain. As it was, she felt thankful. It meant that the interminable fishing expedition would have to be cut short.

  With urgent strokes, the Gloam paddled to the nearest bank. Then, when they had all jumped ashore, they upturned the canoe and balanced it above their heads to shield themselves from the downpour. Humdudgeon thought that the rain might ease off, but he didn’t turn out to be right. Eventually, they all agreed to abandon the night’s activities and head for home.

  ‘Want us to come with you?’ said Huffkin.

  ‘No, we’ll be fine,’ said Athene. She couldn’t possibly summon up the effort to be pleasant to her brother for one more second and she didn’t want her friends to see her lose her temper with him. They might make the mistake of thinking that she wasn’t very nice.

  Bidding a muted goodbye to the Gloam, Athene took Zach’s hand and pulled him along the riverbank. Then she struck out across the fields, making for Freshwater Farmhouse. The rain did not let up. The raindrops slipped down her forehead, catching in her brows and lashes before dripping into her eyes. Together with her tears, which had been brought on by the disastrous nature of the night’s events, the Goggle Drops were soon washed from her eyes. Within fifteen minutes, her vision had reverted to normal and she could barely see her own trainers in the dark. Even though Athene had no idea of where she was or in which direction she should be walking, she continued to drag her brother along at a breakneck pace.

  Thunder rumbled and lightning streaked across the sky. Athene peered through her spikes of wet hair, hoping to glimpse a landmark that she recognised. Her wish was granted when her feet hit tarmac and she saw the hollow tree lit up by a fork of garish lightning.

  In the split second that she saw its silhouette, the tree looked monstrous, with its grotesque trunk and its branches like tentacles. She pictured the Low Gloam living beneath its roots, forcing their slaves to obey their every command.

  Athene felt her brother tugging at her hand. ‘My pyjamas are wet-through, Eeny. Are we nearly there?’ he said.

  ‘Nearly,’ Athene heard herself say, ‘but I think we should look for somewhere to take shelter, at least until the thunderstorm has passed.’

  ‘All right,’ said her brother tiredly.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘How about that hollow tree?’

  Zach let go of her hand and ran towards it eagerly. ‘It’s like a cave!’ he said, his voice filled with wonder.

  Athene stood back and watched him as he bent to peer inside the trunk. She didn’t shout out. She didn’t try to stop him. He slipped into the tree and disappeared.

  After a few minutes, Athene inched closer. ‘Zach?’ she said.

  There was no reply.

  The rain drummed on the road and the thunder boomed.

  She waited for a moment more; then turned away, thrilled and appalled by what she had just done.

  Chapter Five

  The Tall Lady

  The road brought Athene home. Rather than attempt to find her way across the fields, she had the presence of mind to follow the narrow country lane along which she had cycled the day before. The lane wound its way through woods and over bridges; up and down hills and past field after field of weather-beaten crops, which could be heard rustling softly in the dark.

  It was very late and Athene’s walk was a lonely one. A handful of times, she had to crouch in ditches or nip behind trees to elude passing motorists and, once, she only just avoided being caught in the beam of a bicycle lamp when a cyclist in a waterproof cape freewheeled soundlessly round a corner. She knew that if anyone happened to see her, trudging homeward in the pouring rain, they would be bound to stop and ask her what she thought she was doing. Athene did not wish to be bombarded with awkward questions. Even though she was drenched to the bone and desperately tired, she did everything she could to ensure that no one would offer her a lift.

  She almost managed to make it back to the farmhouse without being challenged, but her luck ran out as she turned into the driveway. The patter of footsteps close by gave her a hint that she had been seen. Then a voice called out her name. She spun round and saw two pearly dots moving jerkily towards her.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Athene said. She did not recognise the man’s voice, but knew, of course, that he was a Gloam.

  ‘It is I, Pucklepod,’ replied the man, and she saw his shining eyes stop just short of where she stood.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ Athene said warily.

  ‘I was told that you had set out for home more than an hour ago,’ the Chief of the Humble Gloam said, edging nearer. He didn’t seem quite as hostile as he had a couple of nights before. He sounded perplexed, more than anything. Athene felt the touch of his hand upon her arm and his voice took on a worried note. ‘You look like a half-drowned rabbit. What’s happened to you, Athene? And, tell me, where is your little brother, Zach?’

  ‘My brother?’ Athene said. Pucklepod’s words were like a slap across her cheek.

  ‘He was with you tonight, wasn’t he?’ Pucklepod said. ‘I bumped into Huffkin and Humdudgeon on my way to the huge white house –’

  ‘That’s where I’m staying,’ Athene mumbled. ‘It’s called Freshwater Farm.’

  ‘Is that so?’ said the Chief. ‘You’re a fortunate girl. Its gardens are full of good things to eat. There are slugs aplenty at this time of year and I fancied some for my luncheon – but that’s by the by. When I met Humdudgeon and Huffkin they told me all about your brother. I hear he caught a fine big fish before the rainstorm started.’

  The long walk along the lane had given Athene ample time to dream up a story which would explain precisely what had happened to Zach. She wasn’t going to tell anyone the whole truth. Tricking her brother into spending the rest of his life as a slave was not really something that she felt would be looked upon favourably. However, once he had vanished inside the hollow tree, Athene had found that she did not want to think about Zach at all. She had pushed him out of her mind altogether. On the arduous hike homeward, all that she had permitted herself to think about was a fluffy, warm towel and clean, dry sheets and a soft, feather pillow for her weary head.

  Her silence seemed to make Pucklepod uneasy.

  ‘Where is Zach?’ asked the Chief again.

  Athene floundered for a moment. Rather than invent an outrageous lie, she decided to bend the truth. ‘I … I lost him,’ she said.

  ‘Lost?’ said Pucklepod. ‘In this belting, great thunderstorm? What a thing to happen! How worrying for you, Athene – but don’t despair! I’ll summon the others. We’ll track him down in a flash.’

  ‘No,’ said Athene. ‘I mean … you can’t …’

  The Chief wasn’t listening to her. ‘Hie!’ she heard him yell. There was a flicker of movement in the darkness and Athene guessed that he was waving his arms in the air.

  In no time at all, a whole host of Gloam had arrived. There was agitated chattering and the sound of short, sharp orders being given.

  ‘You won’t find him,’ Athene said.

  ‘Yes, we will, my dear,’ said Hum
dudgeon’s voice beside her. He was joined by Huffkin who assured her that they wouldn’t leave a stone unturned in their search for Zach.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ said Athene, struggling to make herself heard above the hubbub of the crowd. ‘Zach’s not missing. He’s gone … for good. He said he wanted to shelter from the rain. I didn’t realise where we were until it was too late. The tree looked like somewhere safe to Zach. He didn’t know that there was any danger …’

  Athene heard a sharp intake of breath, and felt Huffkin’s woolly-haired head fall against her shoulder.

  ‘Heavens!’ said the distraught Gloam. ‘Poor, sweet boy!’

  ‘How awful. How horrible. How perfectly terribly dreadful,’ announced Humdudgeon fitfully. Then he sought out his chief who called for order and delivered the news to the rest of the tribe.

  ‘Bad tidings,’ said Pucklepod. ‘The Low Gloam have got the young fellow.’

  There was a stupefied silence. Then the Humble Gloam began to wail and moan and murmur fearfully. Many of the Gloam gathered around Athene and told her how desperately sorry they were.

  Athene was so touched by the Gloam’s sympathetic response that she almost forgot that Zach’s disappearance was entirely her own fault. Most of the Gloam had never even met him and yet they were mourning his loss as if he were a close friend or member of their family. A thought suddenly struck her.

  ‘What am I going to tell my mum and dad?’ she said. Athene visualised her anguished parents, a queue of police cars in the driveway of the farmhouse and the cancellation of her holiday. The possible consequences of her actions tumbled down on her like tiles falling from a rickety roof.

  ‘We’ll take care of it,’ she heard Pucklepod say. ‘Don’t you worry, Athene. We’ll take care of it all.’

  After a restless night’s sleep, Athene awoke. For about a second or two, her mind was a blank and then she remembered everything that had taken place a few hours before: the storm, her brother’s departure and the long walk home. She might have dismissed it as a nightmare if she had not spied her wrinkled clothes in a damp heap on the carpet and her mud-spattered trainers lying next to them.

  ‘It really did happen,’ she said.

  Athene got out of bed and opened her bedroom door. If it had been discovered that Zach was missing, she would have expected to hear shrill, panic-stricken voices and the endless ringing of telephones; but Athene heard nothing of the kind. The house was as quiet as a tomb.

  Pucklepod had promised that the Gloam would fix everything. Perhaps his claim had not been over-confident. Even though Athene had been warned that escaping from the lair of the Low Gloam was nigh on impossible, she supposed that the Humble Gloam might have found a way to fetch her brother back. Athene couldn’t help feeling disappointed at this thought.

  Cautiously, she opened the door of her parents’ room.

  Light streamed in through the windows. No one was there. Her parents’ bed had had its pillows straightened and the bedspread smoothed neatly over the mattress. Zach’s camp bed was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that it could have been folded up and stowed somewhere, Athene began to hunt around the room. She did not find the camp bed. Neither did she come across Zach’s suitcase, his drawing pad or any of his toys. She opened the wardrobe and rifled through drawers. His clothes were missing too.

  ‘How odd,’ Athene said.

  Without returning to her room to put on her slippers or her dressing gown, she ran downstairs. In the living room, she found her parents sitting at a table set for three.

  ‘Morning, Athene!’ said her dad warmly. He helped himself to a knob of butter and spread it on his toast. ‘What do you fancy doing today? We could visit the caves at Wookey Hole or go shopping in Weston or climb to the top of Glastonbury Tor.’

  ‘Aren’t you hungry, darling?’ said Athene’s mum. ‘Come and sit down. There’s a wealth of choice this morning. Look, you could have stewed fruit and yoghurt or toast – or Ginnie will cook you up a fried breakfast if you want.’

  ‘Mushrooms, bacon, sausages, eggs … the works,’ said Athene’s dad.

  Athene didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t understand why her parents weren’t beside themselves with worry about Zach. Far from being frantic and upset, they both seemed to be in the cheeriest of moods. Neither of them mentioned him or showed any interest in where he might be.

  Athene sat down at the table, too puzzled to do anything but stare at a spoon.

  Seconds later, Podge burst into the living room, wagging his tail and drooling slightly. A few paces behind him came Ginnie in an apron, carrying a large plate of steaming food in each hand.

  ‘Nothing like a fry-up to start the day,’ said Athene’s dad, seizing his knife and fork in readiness.

  ‘Would you like a cooked breakfast too?’ Ginnie asked Athene. ‘There’s plenty of bacon – and the eggs were laid this morning.’

  Athene did not answer. She had more important things to think about than what she was going to choose to eat. ‘Why have you only set three places?’ she asked. ‘Won’t … um … anyone else be joining us for breakfast?’

  ‘Bless you, no,’ said Ginnie. ‘We don’t eat with guests. Jonnie and I always have ours in the kitchen.’

  Athene looked at her intently. ‘So there aren’t any other people staying here?’ she said.

  ‘No, sweetie. Just you and your mum and dad.’

  The Humble Gloam had kept their promise. They had taken care of everything marvellously. To save Athene’s parents from any distress they had cast a spell on everyone in the farmhouse. No one had realised that Zach had gone missing because they had been magically persuaded that he did not exist at all. The Gloam must have been very busy in the night. As well as performing magic (and, surely, it must have been a complicated spell), they had searched the house from top to bottom, removing every single item that belonged to Zach. They had even remembered to take away one place setting from the breakfast table and, somehow or other, they had sneaked into the Enrights’ car, for when Athene climbed into the back seat she saw that Zach’s story tapes were gone from the seat pocket and the window was no longer smeared with sticky fingerprints.

  Athene found it weird at first. She had borne six gruelling, excruciating years of having her brother hanging around and spoiling her life and she couldn’t really believe that he’d vanished from it. She half expected him to jump out from behind her and announce that he’d been playing a hiding game, but as the day wore on, Athene became more and more convinced that Zach was never going to reappear.

  The weather wasn’t perfect, but despite the drizzle and the overcast skies, it was a wonderful day. Having the undivided attention of both parents was a truly glorious feeling. They took her to the caves at Wookey Hole and then to the town of Weston-super-Mare where they walked arm in arm along the seafront and taught her to skim flat stones so that they bounced across the water. Then they browsed the shops and bought Athene a necklace made from haematite before stopping for tea and a slice of jam sponge at a cosy little café on the pier.

  By the time that they returned to the farmhouse, Athene was feeling extremely happy, but her day of being entertained and cosseted was not over yet.

  While her parents settled down to read in the living room, Athene was treated to a guided tour of the Stirrups’ farmyard by Jonnie and Podge. She was introduced to the chickens and the small family of Aylesbury ducks; nibbled by the goats; encouraged to pat the flanks of Rachel, the Jersey cow; and allowed to lean into the pigsty where three Gloucester Old Spot pigs were guzzling their supper. Athene rubbed their smooth pink backs whilst Jonnie told her all about the night that they had run away. The pigs, whose names were Flute, Stout and Starveling, had managed to squeeze out of their sty and had all gone trotting off on an adventure. They had been discovered the next morning, in the garden of a Justice of the Peace who was most surprised to find three full-grown pigs rootling about in her flower beds.

  A game of knockout whist was undertake
n afterwards and Jonnie lit the log-burning stove in the living room because the evening had turned quite cold. When bedtime arrived, Athene climbed the stairs with a blissful smile on her face. The day had been lovely from beginning to end and she couldn’t wait to record every detail in her diary.

  She sat down on her bed and gave a contented sigh. Then she picked up her pen, reached for her diary and opened it.

  The page for the seventh of August should have been blank, but it wasn’t. Drawn clumsily in green felt tip was a picture of a tall, stick woman with mad, spidery hands and a very long dress. It was one of Zach’s.

  Athene was speechless with shock. She stared at the picture uncomprehendingly until her brain worked out how it could have got there. The day before, she had found a green pen lying on her bed. Its discovery had alerted her to the fact that Zach had been in her room – and now she knew exactly what he’d been doing with the pen.

  In a fit of anger, Athene ripped out the page.

  The Humble Gloam had done a thorough sweep of the house. They had endeavoured to get rid of every single thing that showed that Zach existed. They had done their utmost to remove every piece of evidence and yet they had not been scrupulous enough.

  She screwed the page into a ball and flung it into a wastepaper basket.

  Throwing it away didn’t help. Although Athene could not see it any more, she knew that the drawing was still there in the room and she could not feel at ease until it was gone. She thought about disposing of it in the dustbin outside and then she had a better idea. There was a chance that the log-burning stove in the living room was still alight. She could drop the drawing amongst its embers where it would shrivel into ash; and ash would not be able to torment her.

  Handling the screwed-up drawing as if it were a time bomb, she ran swiftly down the stairs and into the living room. No one was there except for Crumbs the cat, who was sitting on the arm of one of the easy chairs. Crumbs fixed Athene with a critical gaze as she hastened over to the stove.