Several hours later, Alfie was sitting propped up in a hospital bed waiting impatiently for his dad. He tried reading to pass the time, but all he had been given was a booklet on healthy eating and a pile of torn picture books that had been scribbled on. A doctor had told him that he had concussion and would need to stay under observation for a while. She had instructed the nurses to check on him every half hour. This was beginning to annoy Alfie. Every time they popped in he thought it was his dad arriving.
He lay back and watched the minute hand on the ward clock click to half past seven. The whole Merryweather clan had gone to the school with his dad and the police to confront the headmistresses. Inspector Wainwright had taken their story very seriously and had called up most of Hexbridge’s small police force to accompany them to the school. That was several hours ago. Alfie wondered what was keeping them. He was dying to know exactly what Murkle and Snitch’s faces had looked like as they were led away in handcuffs.
One of the nurses popped in to test Alfie’s reflexes with a little rubber hammer when he heard voices coming down the corridor. His cousins bounced into the ward, closely followed by his dad.
“We thought you’d be bored so I brought you some books,” said Robin, replacing the tatty picture books with an encyclopaedia, a survival handbook and a collection of adventure stories.
“I got you some tongue twizzlers and sherbet fizzbombs from Gertie Entwhistle’s,” said Madeleine, plonking a white paper bag on top of the books.
“How’s the noggin?” asked his dad as he sat down next to the bed and handed Alfie a flask. “Chicken soup,” he smiled. “Granny said she’ll bring you another batch when she comes to visit tomorrow.”
Alfie was confused. He thought that everyone would have been bursting to get back and tell him what happened at the school, but they had stopped off at the sweetshop and even found time to wait for Granny to make soup.
“Well?” he asked expectantly.
“Well what?” asked his dad.
“What happened at the school? You’ve been ages. I thought you’d have come straight back to tell me all about it.”
“You mean the accident?” asked Robin confused.
“No, not my accident!” yelled Alfie in frustration, which made the nurse pop his head round the curtains of the next bed to shush him. “What happened when the police arrested Murkle and Snitch? Did they try to run away?”
Everyone went quiet. Robin and Madeleine glanced at each other uneasily. His dad looked concerned and squeezed his hand. “Why on earth would anyone arrest your teachers? Don’t you remember what happened today?”
“Of course I remember.” Alfie looked around as though this was a bad joke, but nobody laughed. “We got my talisman back from Murkle and Snitch’s office. They chased us through the secret passage from their office into the caves in the hills. Murkle and Snitch caught me and Robin. I hit my head as we were running from them.”
He looked at the three serious faces around the bed and realized that they weren’t just pretending not to know what he was talking about – they really didn’t have a clue.
“Alfie,” said Robin in a worried voice, “we were climbing one of the trees behind the school at lunchtime, and you fell and hit your head on the way down. Don’t you remember? Murkle and Snitch were really good about it, even though we were off the school grounds. They drove us back to the castle. You were so dizzy you hardly knew what was going on. We were all really worried.”
“We brought you straight here after they dropped you off,” added his dad. “The nurses were very impressed with how well they fixed up your head.”
Alfie listened to this with mounting confusion. What was going on?
“They didn’t bandage my head! That was Bryn, the man that helped Robin carry me out of the cave before we travelled back from the past.” His dad gave his hand another concerned squeeze. Alfie thought back over the afternoon’s events. They were so clear in his mind.
The nurse appeared again and started to usher everyone out of the room so that Alfie could sleep. As they were leaving, a few things struck Alfie as odd.
“Wait!” he called after his cousins. “I’ve never seen Murkle and Snitch drive before. What type of car was it?”
“Um, I can’t remember,” said the usually observant Robin.
Hah! thought Alfie as his cousin’s face screwed up in thought. “Come on, describe it, what colour was it? What were the seats like? Was it big, small, old, new? Who was driving?”
“I can’t remember who drove,” said Madeleine. “I think the car was … maybe green?” she looked to Robin who shrugged and then nodded in agreement.
“Well, which tree did I fall out of?” said Alfie quickly. “All the trees behind the school are pines, you can’t climb them.”
Robin and Madeleine started to look confused and scared as Alfie fired question after question at them.
“Who went to get Murkle and Snitch after I fell out of the tree? How long was I unconscious? Where did you go after you left me here? Tell me the details!”
“That’s enough, Alfie,” said his dad firmly. “I know this is frightening for you, but you need to calm down now or you’ll make yourself worse.” He gently ruffled Alfie’s hair. “Don’t think about it too hard tonight. Just sleep. You’ll feel better after some rest.”
After everyone said their goodbyes and left the ward, Alfie felt worse than ever. He settled down into the narrow hospital bed as the nurse poured him a glass of water and pulled the curtains closed.
“Nurse,” he asked just before he disappeared. “When we arrived at the hospital, do you remember what we told you about my accident?”
“I do,” said the nurse, his eyes glazing over slightly. “You were climbing a tree behind the school and you fell and knocked your head. Miss Snitch filled me in on the details when she came by about an hour ago. She didn’t want to disturb you – just asked how you are. Wasn’t that nice?”
He closed the curtains and Alfie lay in the darkness struggling to think through the throbbing pain in his head. It was then that he remembered the talisman. He clapped his hand to his chest and felt it safely fastened around his neck under the hospital gown. They really had been into Murkle and Snitch’s office.
His head reeled as he realized that if what he remembered was the truth, Murkle and Snitch had somehow twisted the memories of all of his family, as well as the police. The realization was so frightening that he almost wished he had been wrong after all. Lying cold and afraid under the thin hospital blankets, Alfie felt more alone than ever before.
Alfie spent most of the next week in bed glaring up at the animals carved into the wooden canopy above his bed. He was thoroughly miserable. Madeleine and Robin visited every day with news of the dress rehearsals for the play. Each time, Alfie interrogated them about the accident and tried to remind them about the chase through the tunnels, but they just looked at him pityingly. His entire family suddenly thought that Murkle and Snitch were wonderful human beings – it was all Alfie could do not to scream. Murkle and Snitch were tearing everything away from him and with no one to talk to he couldn’t figure out what to do about it.
His only consolation was that he was away from school for the time being, and the dragon seemed unable to penetrate the castle’s grounds. He had a feeling it was due to the castle being built by magic. Now he just needed to stop Murkle and Snitch from getting inside. He wondered if there was a way he could withdraw his offer of hosting the school play without everyone at school hating him for ever. If only his dad would stop checking on him every ten minutes, he might be able to think straight.
By the end of the week, he was so desperate for something to do that he decided to clean his room. Sorting through the mounds of clothes, comics and schoolbooks, he wondered if his dad’s room looked just as bad – he imagined it was probably worse. A loud knock on the door made him jump an
d bang his head as he was scrabbling around under the bed to retrieve a last dirty sock.
“Telephone call,” called Ashford as Alfie crawled out, wiping the balls of dust from his jeans. He noticed the butler glance at the talisman around his neck then quickly look away. Alfie tucked it into his T-shirt and glared at Ashford. He didn’t know who he could trust any more. He had started locking his door at night and tried to avoid his dad and the butler as much as possible.
“Caspian Bone wishes to speak with you,” said Ashford, looking slightly wounded by Alfie’s reaction. Alfie hurried past him and down the stairs. He hadn’t spoken to Caspian since moving day. What could he want?
“Good afternoon,” said the solicitor almost as soon as the receiver touched Alfie’s ear. “I hope that this call finds you convalesced?”
Alfie didn’t bother asking how Caspian knew about his accident and let him continue uninterrupted.
“Orin Hopcraft left a message to be delivered to you on this date. He believed that you would be sufficiently recovered from your ordeal by now and wished for you to visit his study on this night.”
In all the anger and loneliness he had felt since his family had been hypnotized by Murkle and Snitch, Alfie had completely forgotten that Orin had promised to send him help.
“He asked that you look inside the wooden box on his desk,” said Caspian. “The key will come to you.”
“How did he give you the message?” Alfie burst out before he could stop himself.
“May I remind you that Muninn and Bone is a VERY long-established firm – 1086, to be precise,” replied Caspian. “We save a great many messages, documents and items to pass on when the time is right, never before. This is one such message. Now, I believe you may have noticed our sentinels posted around the castle?”
Alfie looked out through one of the windows. He hadn’t seen anyone around. Then he noticed the unusual number of ravens outside: at least two on every wall and several circling overhead.
“I see them, but why are they here?” asked Alfie.
“The Great Druid wished us to look out for you at this time.”
“So you know about Murkle and Snitch?” said Alfie, “Can you help me to…”
“I do not need to know the details,” said Caspian. “I have passed on Orin’s message and bid you good day.”
Alfie stared at the receiver in surprise as the line clicked and the dialling tone hummed through the earpiece. He had a good mind to call Caspian straight back and shout until he listened, but settled for kicking the umbrella stand, which unfortunately turned out to be made of cast iron.
Orin hadn’t specified a time, so Alfie waited until his dad was in bed and unlikely to check on him. Just after midnight, he grabbed a torch from his wall and scurried along the corridor to the library.
Lighting the candles in Orin’s study, he sat down at the druid’s desk and reached for the wooden box that sat in the centre, as if placed there just for him. There was a small keyhole on the front, but he didn’t have the key. Caspian had said it would come to him. Was that some form of riddle, or had he forgotten to send it? As he turned the box over in his hands, there were footsteps from the passage that led into the study. Someone was coming through and it didn’t sound like his dad.
“Who’s there?” he croaked fearfully as a tall figure slipped into the room. The candlelight glinted off a sharp, curved blade in the hand of the shadowy figure.
“What do you want?” Alfie demanded, sounding braver than he felt. He lifted the box over his head, ready to use it as a weapon.
“I’ve brought something for you,” said a soft, familiar voice. Ashford stepped out of the shadows. “Now maybe you should put that down before you break whatever is inside.”
Alfie backed away, the box still held high. “Why have you got a knife?” Alfie could barely keep the wobble out of his voice as he found himself backed up against the shelves with nowhere else to go.
“This?” said Ashford, looking down at the blade in his hand. “I brought this for you.” He swung his arm out towards Alfie, who leapt aside to dodge the blade, holding the box to his chest as a shield between himself and the butler.
Ashford froze, hand held out in front of him, horror written all over his face. Alfie looked down. The butler was offering him the knife, handle first. Was this some kind of trick? His fingers shook as he reached out to take it. Ashford seemed mortified by his reaction.
“You thought I was going to hurt you?” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. It’s a ceremonial sickle – part of a family heirloom. I believe you’ll need it in order to follow the instructions in that box.”
Alfie stared at the butler.
“Caspian passed this on to me in a message from Orin.” Ashford held out a small silver key. “I was to bring it here at this time so that you would know to trust me. I hope I haven’t jeopardized that trust?”
“How could Orin possibly know you?” asked Alfie, sinking into Orin’s armchair. “Who are you really?”
“Your faithful butler,” said Ashford, with absolute sincerity. “Now, let’s get this box open. I have been asked to help you with its contents.”
Inside the box was what looked like a shopping list of strange items, packets of dried roots, small coloured crystals and a letter. Alfie opened it and read aloud:
Dear Alfie,
Despite the terrible circumstances of our meeting, it was a pleasure to finally speak to you in person. It is clear that the two women you are facing must be revealed for their true selves and stopped before they can attempt to carry out their plans. I have asked Caspian to provide you with some protection, but for the sake of the continued containment of the magic you guard, you must learn to defend yourself against such enemies.
I am sending this spell of revelation to help you. I am also leaving some of the items you will need for this potion. The rest would not survive the passage of time, which is why I have asked Muninn and Bone to arrange for someone to help you. If it is the soul I have requested, he will be able to perform the incantation on the back of this letter, instruct you in the potions preparation and find the remaining ingredients. However, I must warn you not to ask him more than he can tell you. He must remain silent on his past: to speak of it would jeopardize his very existence.
Your friend always,
Orin Hopcraft
Alfie flipped the letter over to reveal a string of runes and stared up at Ashford in amazement. “But, how…?”
The butler pretended to twist a key between his lips as he took the list from the box. “Let’s see, yarrow, black salt, agrimony, mandrake root, dragon’s blood…”
“Dragon’s blood?” gasped Alfie. “How are we going to get that?”
“It’s a resin, not real blood,” said Ashford. “I might even have some handy. Everything else on this list is easy enough. I can have it all by tomorrow night. You can get this one.”
“Mistletoe?” read Alfie.
“There’s some growing on the oak in the courtyard. It must be cut with a silver sickle under the moonlight, so use the one I’ve given you to collect some before we meet here at midnight tomorrow. Cut a little extra if you like.” he smiled. “Isn’t Miss Siu visiting again for Christmas?”
Alfie glared as Ashford smiled innocently back at him.
Alfie felt ten times better the next day. Now there was at least one person in the world he could talk to. He read Orin’s letter again, wondering if Ashford would really be able to find all of the strange ingredients so quickly. The ravens were still stationed around the castle. He waved at them every time he passed a window, but was hardly surprised when they ignored him completely.
At eleven o’clock, he got dressed and padded down to the courtyard. Standing on the bench around the oak, he cut down a piece of mistletoe and felt himself blushing furiously as he thought of Amy. Ashford obviously didn’t understan
d that a girl and a boy could just be friends without any of that … that … stuff!
Ashford joined him in Orin’s study at midnight and set him to work with the pestle and mortar. Alfie used the opportunity to release some of the anger and frustration he had felt over the last week as he pounded the coloured crystals and tree resins into powder. While he worked, Ashford chopped the herbs and crushed the juice out of the berries with one of his silver blades.
“If this works on Murkle and Snitch,” said Alfie, mashing at the powder in the mortar as though it was his teachers’ heads, “will everyone get their memories back?”
“Without knowing exactly what they did, I can’t be sure,” said Ashford, tipping the powder, herbs and juice into a small purple bottle of liquid and carrying it over to the window. “It reveals deep, dangerous secrets as well as someone’s true nature. If there are any enchantments surrounding them, it is likely that they will all be undone and then we can stop them.” Alfie hoped that this included the weird hypnosis they had worked on everyone.
Sitting on the sill was a bowl of water lined with oak leaves and coloured crystals shining gently in the moonlight. Ashford carefully added some of the water to the bottle then began to read the runic incantation on the back of Orin’s letter. Alfie listened to the strange language flowing so easily from Ashford’s lips and wondered where he had learnt it. Finishing the incantation, the butler corked the bottle and passed it to Alfie. “Shake it,” he ordered. “Imagine it stripping away all of the secrets and lies from your Murkle and Snitch.”
Alfie took the bottle and shook until his arms hurt, picturing everyone seeing the two women revealed for their terrible selves. Finally, when his arms felt like jelly, he held the bottle up to the window. Against the bright white moon he could see little motes of light floating gently behind the purple glass – it was like a tiny universe filled with stars.
Alfie Bloom and the Secrets of Hexbridge Castle Page 17
