The Spook's Apprentice (19 page)

One thing I didn’t ask Mam was how she’d managed to silence the ghasts on Hangman’s Hill. It was my instincts again. I just knew that it was something she wouldn’t want to talk about. In a family, there are some things you don’t ask. You know you’ll be told when it’s the right time.

We left soon after dawn, my heart down in my boots.

Ellie followed me to the gate. I stopped there but waved Alice on and she sauntered up the hill, swinging her hips, without even once glancing back.

‘I need to say something to you, Tom,’ Ellie said. ‘It hurts me to do it but it has to be said.’

I could tell by her voice that it was going to be bad. I nodded miserably and forced myself to meet her eyes. I was shocked to see that they were streaming with tears.

‘You’re still welcome here, Tom,’ Ellie said, brushing her hair back from her forehead and trying to smile.

‘That’s not changed. But we do have to think of our child. So you’ll be welcome here, but not after dark. You see, that’s what’s made Jack so bad tempered recently. I didn’t like to tell you just how strongly he feels, but it has to be said now. He doesn’t like the job you’re doing at all. Not one little bit. It gives him the creeps. And he’s scared for the baby.

‘We’re frightened, you see. We’re frightened that if you’re ever here after dark you might attract something else. You might bring back something bad with you and we can’t risk anything happening to our family. Come and visit us during the day, Tom. Come and see us when the sun’s up and the birds are singing.’

Ellie hugged me then and that made it even worse. I knew that something had come between us and that things had changed for ever. I felt like crying, but somehow I stopped myself. I don’t know how I managed it. There was a big lump in my throat and I couldn’t speak.

I watched Ellie walk back to the farmhouse and turned my attention back to the decision I had to make.

What should I do about Alice?

I’d woken up certain that it was my duty to take her back with me to Chipenden. It seemed the right thing to do. The safe thing to do. It felt like a duty. When I gave Mother Malkin the cakes, I’d let the softness of my heart overrule me. And look where that had got me. So it was probably best to deal with Alice now, before it was too late. As the Spook said, you had to think of the innocents who might be harmed in the future.

On the first day of the journey we didn’t speak to each other much. I just told her we were going back to Chipenden to see the Spook. If Alice knew what was going to happen to her, she certainly didn’t complain. Then on the second day, as we got closer to the village and were actually on the lower slopes of the fells, no more than a mile or so from the Spook’s house, I told Alice what I’d been keeping bottled up inside me; what had been worrying me ever since I’d realized just what the cakes contained.

We were sitting on a grassy bank close to the side of the road. The sun had set and the light was beginning to fail.

‘Alice, do you ever tell lies?’ I asked.

‘Everybody tells lies sometimes,’ she replied. ‘Wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. But mostly I tell the truth.’

‘What about that night when I was trapped in the pit? When I asked you about those cakes. You said there hadn’t been another child at Lizzie’s house. Was that true?’

‘Didn’t see one.’

‘The first one that went missing was no more than a baby. It couldn’t have wandered off by itself. Are you sure?’

Alice nodded and then bowed her head, staring down at the grass.

‘I suppose it could have been carried off by wolves,’ I said. ‘That’s what the village lads thought.’

‘Lizzie said she’s seen wolves in these parts. That could be it,’ Alice agreed.

‘So what about the cakes, Alice? What was in them?’

‘Suet and pork bits mostly. Breadcrumbs too.’

‘What about the blood, then? Animal blood wouldn’t have been good enough for Mother Malkin. Not when she needed enough strength to bend the bars over the pit. So where did the blood come from, Alice - the blood that was used in the cakes?’

Alice started to cry. I waited patiently for her to finish then asked the question again.

‘Well, where did it come from?’

‘Lizzie said I was still a child,’ Alice said. ‘They’d used my blood lots of times. So one more time didn’t matter much. It don’t hurt that much. Not when you get used to it. How could I stop Lizzie anyway?’

With that, Alice pushed up her sleeve and showed me her upper arm. There was still enough light to see the scars. And there were a lot of them - some old; some relatively new. The newest one of all hadn’t healed properly yet. It was still weeping.

‘There’s more than that. Lots more. But I can’t show ‘em all,’ Alice said.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just kept quiet. But I’d already made up my mind, and soon we walked off into the dark, away from Chipenden.

I’d decided to take Alice straight to Staumin, where her aunt lived. I couldn’t bear the thought of her ending up in a pit in the Spook’s garden. It was just too terrible - and I remembered another pit. I remembered how Alice had helped me from Tusk’s pit just before Bony Lizzie had come to collect my bones. But above all it was what Alice had just told me that had finally changed my mind. Once, she’d been one of the innocents. Alice had been a victim too.

We climbed Parlick Pike, then moved north onto Blindhurst Fell, always keeping to the high ground.

I liked the idea of going to Staumin. It was near the coast and I’d never seen the sea before, except from the tops of the fells. The route I chose was more than a bit out of the way, but I fancied exploring and liked being up there close to the sun. Anyway, Alice didn’t seem to mind at all.

It was  a good journey  and I enjoyed Alice’s company, and for the first time we really started to talk. She taught me a lot too. She knew the names of more stars than I did and was really good at catching rabbits.

As for plants, Alice was an expert on things that the Spook hadn’t even mentioned so far, such as deadly nightshade and mandrake. I didn’t believe everything she said, but I wrote it down anyway because she’d been taught it by Lizzie and I thought it was useful to learn what a witch believes. Alice was really good at distinguishing mushrooms from poisonous toadstools, some of which were so dangerous that one bite would stop your heart or drive you insane. I had my notebook with me and under the heading called ‘Botany’ I added three more pages of useful information.

One night, when we were less than a day’s walk from Staumin, we stayed in a forest clearing. We’d just cooked two rabbits in the embers of a fire until the meat almost melted in our mouths. After the meal Alice did something really strange. After turning to face me, she reached across and held my hand.

We sat there like that for a long time. She was staring into the embers of the fire and I was looking up at the stars. I didn’t want to break away but I was all mixed up. My left hand was holding her left hand and I felt guilty. I felt as if I were holding hands with the dark, and I knew the Spook wouldn’t like it.

There was no way I could get away from the truth. Alice was going to be a witch one day. It was then that I realized Mam was right. It was nothing to do with prophecy. You could see it in Alice’s eyes. She’d always be somewhere in between, neither wholly good nor wholly bad. But wasn’t that true of all of us? Not one of us was perfect.

So I didn’t pull my hand away. I just sat there, one part of me enjoying holding her hand, which was sort of comforting after all that had happened, while the other part sweated with guilt.

It was Alice who broke away. She took her hand out of mine and then touched my arm where her nails had cut me on the night we destroyed Mother Malkin. You could see the scars clearly in the glow from the embers.

‘Put my brand on you there,’ she said with a smile. ‘That won’t ever fade away.’

I thought that was a strange thing to say and I wasn’t sure what she meant. Back home we put our brand on cattle. We did it to show that they belonged to us and to stop strays getting mixed up with animals from neighbouring farms. But how could I belong to Alice?

The following day we came down onto a great flat plain. Some of it was moss land and the worst bits were soggy marsh, but eventually we found our way through to Staumin. I never got to see the aunt because she wouldn’t come out to talk to me. Still, she agreed to take Alice in so I couldn’t complain.

There was a big, wide river nearby, and before I left for Chipenden, we walked down its bank as far as the sea. I wasn’t really taken with it. It was a grey, windy day and the water was the same colour as the sky and the waves were big and rough.

‘You’ll be all right here,’ I said, trying to be cheerful. ‘It’ll be nice when the sun shines.’

‘Just have to make the best of it,’ Alice said. ‘Can’t be worse than Pendle.’

I suddenly felt sorry for her again. I felt lonely at times, but at least I had the Spook to talk to; Alice didn’t even know her aunt properly and the rough sea made everything seem bleak and cold.

‘Look, Alice, I don’t expect we’ll see each other again, but if you ever need help, try to get word to me,’ I offered.

I suppose I said that because Alice was the nearest thing to a friend I had. And as a promise, it wasn’t quite as daft as the first one I’d made her. I didn’t commit myself to actually doing anything. Next time she asked for anything, I’d be talking to the Spook first.

To my surprise, Alice smiled and she had a strange look in her eyes. It reminded me of what Dad had once said about women sometimes knowing things that men don’t - and when you suspect that, you should never ask what they’re thinking.

‘Oh, we’ll meet again,’ Alice said. ‘Ain’t no doubt about that.’

‘I’ll have to be off now,’ I said, turning to leave.

‘I’ll miss you, Tom,’ Alice said. ‘Won’t be the same without you.’

‘I’ll miss you too, Alice,’ I said, giving her a smile.

As the words came out, I thought that I’d said them out of politeness. But I hadn’t been on the road more than ten minutes before I knew I was wrong.

I’d meant every word and I was feeling lonely already.

I’ve written most of this from memory, but some of it from my notebook and my diary. I’m back at Chipenden now and the Spook is pleased with me. He thinks I’m making really good progress.

Bony Lizzie’s in the pit where the Spook used to keep Mother Malkin. The bars have been straightened out and she certainly won’t be getting any midnight cakes from me. As for Tusk, he’s buried in the hole he dug for my grave.

Poor Billy Bradley’s back in his grave outside the churchyard at Lay ton, but at least he’s got his thumbs now. None of it’s pleasant but it’s something that just goes with the job. You have to like it or lump it, as my dad says.

There’s something else I should tell you. The Spook agrees with what Mam said. He thinks that the winters are getting longer and that the dark is growing in power. He’s sure that the job’s getting harder and harder.

So keeping that in mind, I’ll just carry on studying and learning - as my mam once told me, you never know just what you can do until you try. So I’m going to try. I’m going to try just as hard as I possibly can because I want her to be really proud of me.

Now I’m just an apprentice, but one day I’ll be the Spook.

Thomas J. Ward