The Spook's Secret

by Joseph Delaney

  'Get well soon, Dad,' I whispered very softly. 'I'll call back in the spring and see you then.'

  My mouth was suddenly dry, and when I licked my lips, I tasted the salt from his brow. Mam smiled sadly and pointed to the bedroom door.

  As I followed her out, Dad started to cough and splutter behind me. I turned back in concern, and at that moment he opened his eyes and looked at me.

  'Tom! Tom! Is that you?' he called before starting another bout of coughing.

  Mam brushed past me in the doorway and bent over Dad anxiously, stroking his forehead gently until the coughing finally subsided.

  'Tom is here,' she told him, 'but don't you go tiring yourself out with too much talking.'

  'Are you working hard, lad? Is your master pleased with you?' Dad asked, but his voice was weak and croaky, as if there was something caught in his throat.

  'Aye, Dad, it's going well. In fact that's one of the reasons I'm here,' I said, approaching the bed. 'My master's definitely keeping me on and he wants the last ten guineas you owe him to pay for my apprenticeship.'

  'That's good news, son. I'm really pleased for you. So you've enjoyed working up at Chipenden?'

  T have that, Dad,' I said with a smile, 'but now we're off to spend the winter at his house on Anglezarke Moor.'

  Suddenly Dad looked alarmed. 'Oh, I wish you weren't going there, son,' he said, glancing at Mam. 'There are strange tales about that place, and none of them good. You'll need eyes in the back of your head up there. Make sure you stay close to your master and listen carefully to everything he says.'

  'I'll be all right, Dad. Don't you worry. I'm learning more each day.'

  'I'm sure you are, son. I must confess that I had my doubts about apprenticing you to a spook, but your mam was right. It's a hard job but somebody has to do it. She's told me about the things you've achieved so far, and I'm really proud to have such a brave son. I don't have favourites, mind. Seven sons I've had, all good lads. I love all my boys and I'm proud of every one, but I have a feeling that you might turn out to be the best of the whole crop.'

  I just smiled, not knowing what to say. Dad smiled back, then closed his eyes, and within moments the rhythm of his breathing changed and he drifted back off to sleep. Mam gestured towards the door and we left the room.

  When we were back in the kitchen, asked Mam about the strange smell.I

  'You've asked, so I won't try to hide it from you, Tom,' she said. 'As well as being the seventh son of a seventh son, you've inherited some things from me. We're both sensitive to what are called 'intimations of death'. So what you smell is death's approach ...'

  A lump filled my throat and the tears began to prick behind my eyes. Immediately Mam came forward and put her arm round me.

  'Oh, Tom, try not to get upset. It doesn't mean that your dad is necessarily going to die a week, a month or even a year from now. But the stronger the smell, the closer death is. If someone recovers fully, the smell goes away. And it's the same with your dad. Some days the smell is hardly there at all. I'm doing my very best for him and there is still some hope. Anyway, there it is, I've told you and it's something else you've learned.'

  'Thanks, Mam,' I said sadly, preparing to go.

  'Now don't go rushing off in that state,' Mam said, her voice soft and kind. 'Just sit yourself down near the fire and I'll make you some sandwiches for the journey.'

  I did as I was told while she quickly made up a parcel of ham and chicken sandwiches for the three of us.

  'Aren't we forgetting something?' she asked as she handed me the parcel.

  'Mr Gregory's money!' I replied. I'd forgotten all about it.

  'Wait there, Tom,' she said. 'I'll just have to go up to my room and get it.'

  By 'my room' she didn't mean the bedroom that she shared with Dad. She meant the locked room near the top of the house where she kept her possessions. I'd only been in it once since I was a toddler, and that was when she'd given me her silver chain. Nobody else went in that room. Not even Dad.

  There were lots of boxes and chests in there but I hadn't a clue what they contained. From what Mam had just said, there was money in there too. Mam's money had bought our farm in the first place. She'd brought it with her from her own country, Greece.

  Before I left, Mam handed me the pack of sandwiches and counted ten guineas into my hand. When she looked into my eyes, I could see the concern there.

  'It's going to be a long, hard, cruel winter, son. All the signs are there. The swallows flew south almost a month earlier than usual and the first frost came while the last of my roses were still in bloom - something I've never seen before. Ifs going to be harsh and I don't think any of us will come through it unchanged. And there couldn't be a worse place to spend it than up on Anglezarke. Your dad was worried about you, son, and I am too. And what he said was right. So I won't mince my words. There's no doubt that the dark's growing in power and there's a particularly baleful influence up on that moor. It's where some of the Old Gods were worshipped long ago, and in winter some of them start to stir from their sleep. The worst of them was Golgoth, whom some call the

  Lord of Winter. So stay close to your master. He's the only real friend you've got. You must help one another.' 'But what about Alice?'

  Mam shook her head. 'Maybe she'll be all right and maybe not. You see, up on that cold moor you're closer to the dark than most other places in the County, so being near there will put her to the test again. I hope she comes through it but I can't see the outcome. Just do as I say. Work closely with your master. That's what counts.'

  We hugged each other one more time, then I said goodbye and set off down the lane again.

  Chapter 4

  It had begun to rain and the cold south-easterly wind increased until it was driving hard into our faces, the grey cloud low and oppressive like a leaden weight hanging above our heads. Later the wind blew even harsher and the rain turned to sleet and hail. The ground became mud under foot and our progress was very slow. To make matters worse, we kept stumbling into areas of moss land and treacherous soggy marsh, and it took all the Spook's knowledge to get us across safely.

  But on the morning of the third day the rain eased

  and the clouds lifted so that we could see a grim line of hills directly ahead.

  'There it is!' the Spook said, pointing at the skyline with his staff. 'Anglezarke Moor. And there, about four miles or so to the south' - he gestured again - 'is Blackrod.'

  It was too far away to see the village. I thought I could just make out a few wisps of smoke but it might have been cloud.

  'What's Blackrod like?' I asked. My master had mentioned it from time to time, so I imagined it would be the place where I'd be collecting our weekly provisions.

  'If s not as friendly a place as Chipenden, so it's best to keep away,' said the Spook. 'Awkward people live there and a lot of them are family. I was born there, so I should know. No, Adlington's a far nicer place and it's not too far ahead now. About a mile to the north of it is the place where we'll be leaving you, girl,' he said to Alice. 'Moor View Farm, it's called. You'll be staying with Mr and Mrs Hurst, who own it.'

  About an hour later we reached an isolated farmhouse close to a big lake. As the Spook went ahead, the dogs started barking; soon he was standing in the yard, talking to an old farmer who didn't exactly look pleased to see him. After about five minutes the farmer's wife joined them. They hadn't one smile to share among the three of them.

  'Ain't going to be welcome here, that's for sure!' Alice said, twisting the corners of her mouth downwards.

  'It may not be all that bad,' I said, trying to make excuses. 'Don't forget, they lost a daughter. Some people never get over a tragedy like that.'

  While we waited, I looked at the farm more carefully. It didn't look very prosperous and most of the buildings were in a state of disrepair. The barn was leaning over and it looked like the next storm would flatten it. Everything in sight looked dismal. I couldn't help wondering about the near
by lake too. It was a bleak expanse of grey water edged with marsh on the far side, with just a few stunted willows on its near shore. Was that where their daughter had drowned? Whenever they looked out of their front windows, the Hursts would be reminded of what had happened.

  After a few minutes the Spook turned and beckoned us forward and we trudged through the mud towards the yard.

  'This is my apprentice, Tom,' the Spook said, introducing me to the old farmer and his wife.

  I smiled and said hello. They both nodded at me but didn't return my smile.

  'And this is young Alice,' continued the Spook. 'She's a hard worker and will be a great help around the house. Be firm but kind and she'll give you no trouble.'

  They looked Alice up and down but said nothing; after a brief nod in their direction and a flicker of a smile she just stared down at her pointy shoes. I could tell that she was unhappy; her stay with the Hursts wasn't getting off to a very good start. I didn't really blame her. They both looked miserable and defeated, as if they'd been beaten down by life. Mr Hurst's face and forehead were deeply lined in a way that suggested he'd had more practice frowning than laughing.

  'Seen much of Morgan lately?' asked the Spook.

  At the sudden use of the name 'Morgan' I looked up sharply to see Mr Hurst's left eyelid twitch and go into a spasm. He looked nervous. Maybe even scared. Was it the same Morgan who'd given me the letter for the Spook?

  'Not much at all' Mrs Hurst answered morosely, without meeting the Spook's gaze. 'He stays the odd night but comes and goes as he pleases. At the moment he mostly keeps away'

  'When was he here last?'

  'Two weeks. Maybe more ...'

  'Well, when he comes visiting again, let him know that I'd like a word or two with him. Tell him to come up to the house.'

  'Aye, I'll tell him.'

  'See that you do. Well, we'll be on our way.' The Spook turned to leave and I picked up my staff and the two bags and followed. Alice came running after me and caught hold of my arm, bringing me to a halt.

  'Don't forget what you promised' she whispered into my left ear. 'Come and visit me and don't leave it longer than a week. Counting on you, I am!'

  'I'll come and see you, don't worry' I said, giving her a smile.

  With that, she walked back to join the Hursts and I watched as all three went into the farmhouse. I felt really sad for Alice, but there was nothing I could do.

  As we left Moor View Farm behind, I told the Spook what had started to worry me.

  'They didn't seem that happy to take Alice in'1 said, expecting that the Spook would contradict me. To my shock and surprise, he agreed with what I'd said.

  'Aye, that's true enough, they weren't too happy at all. But they hadn't much say in the matter. You see, the Hursts owe me quite a tidy sum. Twice I've rid their place of troublesome boggarts. And I still haven't received even a penny for my hard work. I agreed to cancel their debt if they took Alice in.'

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing. 'But that's not fair on Alice!' I said. 'They might treat her badly.'

  'That girl can take care of herself, as you well know' he said with a grim smile. 'Besides, no doubt you won't be able to keep away and will be calling in from time to time to see if she's all right.'

  When I opened my mouth to protest, the Spook's grin became even wider so that he looked like a hungry wolf, widening its jaws to snap the head off its prey.

  'Well, am I right?' he asked. I nodded.

  'Thought so, lad. I know you well enough by now. So don't go worrying too much about the girl. Worry about yourself. It's likely to be a hard winter. One that'll test the both of us to the limits of our strength. Anglezarke is no place for the weak and faint-hearted!'

  Something else had been puzzling me, so I decided to get it off my chest. T heard you ask the Hursts about somebody called Morgan,' I said. Ts that the same Morgan who sent you the letter?'

  'Well, I certainly hope there aren't two of them, lad! One's trouble enough.'

  'So he sometimes stays with the Hursts?'

  'He does that, lad, which is to be expected seeing as he's their son.'

  'You've sent Alice to stay with Morgan's parents!' I uttered in amazement.

  'Aye. And I know what I'm doing so that's enough questions for now. Let's get on our way. We need to be there long before nightfall.'

  From the very first moment I saw them up close, I'd liked the look of the fells around Chipenden, but somehow Anglezarke Moor was different. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, but the nearer we got the lower my spirits sank.

  Maybe it was the fact that I was seeing it at the tail-end of the year, when it was gloomy and winter was drawing in. Or perhaps it was the dark moor itself rising up before me like a gigantic slumbering beast, clouds shrouding its sombre heights. Most likely it was that everyone had been warning me against it and telling me how severe the winter was going to be. Whatever it was, I felt even worse when I saw the Spook's house, the grim place where we'd be staying for the next few months.

  We approached it by following a stream towards its source, climbing up into what the Spook called a 'clough', which was a cleft in the moor, a deep narrow valley with steep slopes rising up on either side. At first the slopes were just scree, but those loose stones soon gave way to tussocks of grass and bare rock, and the dark cliffs of the clough seemed to close in on either side.

  After about twenty minutes the clough curved away to the left, and suddenly there was the Spook's house directly ahead, built right back against the cliff face to our right. My dad always said that your first impression of something is almost always correct, so my spirits dropped right down into my boots. It was late afternoon and the light was already past its best, so that didn't help. The house was bigger and more imposing than the one at Chipenden, but was constructed from much darker stone, which gave it a distinctly sinister appearance. Additionally the windows were small which, combined with the fact that the house was built in a clough, would surely make the rooms inside very dark. It was one of the most uninviting houses I'd ever seen.

  The worst thing, though, was that it had no garden. As I said, the house was built right against the sheer rocky crag behind it; in front, five or six paces brought you to the edge of the stream, which wasn't very wide but looked deep and very cold. Another thirty paces, crunching across the pebbles, and you'd be stubbing your big toe against the opposite rock face. That's if you managed to get across the slippery stepping stones without falling in.

  There was no smoke rising from the chimney, which suggested there would be no welcoming fire. Back in Chipenden, the Spook's pet boggart had always known when we were returning, and not only was the house already warm, but a piping hot meal would be waiting on the kitchen table.

  Far above, the sides of the clough almost seemed to meet over the house and there was just a narrow strip of sky. I shivered because it was even colder down in the clough than it had been on the lower slopes of the moor and I realized that even in the summer, the sun wouldn't be visible for more than an hour or so each day. It made me appreciate what I'd had back in Chipenden, with woods, fields, the high fells and the wide sky above. There we'd looked down on the world; here we were trapped in a long, deep, narrow pit.

  I glanced up nervously at the dark edges of the clough where it met the sky. Anybody or anything could be up there peering down at us and we wouldn't know it.

  'Well, lad, here we are. This is my winter house. We have a lot to do: tired or not, we'll have to get busy!'

  Rather than walking up to the front door, the Spook led the way round to a small flagged area at the back of the house. Three paces from the back door brought us to the rock face, which was dripping with water and hung with ice stalactites, like the teeth of the dragon in a tall story that one of my uncles used to tell me.

  Of course, in a hot mouth like that those 'teeth' would have turned to steam in an instant; in this cold spot behind the house they'd last most of the year, and once it sno
wed, there'd be no getting rid of them at all until late spring.

  'We always use the back door here, lad,' the Spook said, taking from his pocket the key that his brother Andrew, the locksmith, had made for him. It would open any door as long as the lock wasn't too complicated. I had a similar key myself and it had come in useful more than once.

  The key was stiff in the lock and the door seemed reluctant to open. Once inside, I was depressed by how dark the room was, but the Spook leaned his staff against the wall, pulled a candle from his bag and lit it.

  'Put the bags there,' he said, pointing to a low shelf next to the back door.

  I did as I was told and then placed my staff next to the Spook's in the corner before following him further into the house.

  My mam would have been shocked by the state of the kitchen. I was pretty sure by now that there was no boggart to do the work. It was clear that nobody had looked after the place since the Spook left at the end of last winter. There was dust on every surface and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. The sink was piled high with unwashed pots and there was half a loaf of bread on the table, green with mould. There was also a faint, sweet, unpleasant smell, as if something were slowly rotting away in a dark corner. Next to the fire was a rocking chair similar to Mam's back at the farm. Draped over the back was a brown shawl that looked in need of a good wash. I wondered who it belonged to.

  'Well, lad,' the Spook said, 'we'd better get to work. We'll start by warming the old house up. That done, we'll set about cleaning.'

  At the side of the house was a big wooden shed heaped with coal. I didn't like to think how so much coal had been brought up the clough. At Chipenden I'd been sent for the weekly provisions and just hoped that fetching sacks of coal wouldn't be one of my jobs here.