He’d never done me any harm but I was always glad when he’d finished his business and left. Mam had never liked him either. She disliked the way he kept hawking up thick phlegm and spitting it out into the yard.
He was a big man, taller even than Jack, with knotted muscles on his forearms. The muscles were necessary for the work he did. Some pigs weighed more than a man and they fought like mad to avoid the knife. However, there was one part of Snout that had gone to seed. His shirts were always short, with the bottom two buttons open, and his fat, white, hairy belly hung down over the brown leather apron he wore to stop his trousers getting soaked with blood. He couldn’t have been much more than thirty, but his hair was thin and lank.
Disappointed that it wasn’t Mam, I watched him unhook the lantern from the cart and begin to unload his tools. He set up for business at the front of the barn, right next to the pigpen.
I’d wasted enough time and started to climb over the fence into the wood when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a movement on the slope below. A shadow was heading my way, hurrying towards the stile at the far end of the north pasture.
It was Alice. I didn’t want her following me but it was better to deal with her now than later, so I sat on the boundary fence and waited for her to reach me. I didn’t have to wait long because she ran all the way up the hill.
She didn’t come that close but stayed about nine or ten paces away, her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath. I looked her up and down, seeing again the black dress and the pointy shoes. I must have woken her up when I’d run down the stairs; to reach me so soon she must have got dressed quickly and followed me straight away.
‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ I called across to her, nervousness making my voice wobbly and higher than usual. ‘Don’t waste your time following me either. You’ve had your chance, so from now on you’d better keep well away from Chipenden.’
‘You better had talk to me if you know what’s good for you,’ Alice said. ‘Soon it’ll be too late so there’s something you’d better know. Mother Malkin’s already here.’
‘I know that,’ I said. ‘I saw her.’
‘Not just in the mirror, though. It ain’t just that. She’s back there, somewhere inside the house,’ Alice said, pointing back down the hill.
‘I told you, I know that,’ I said angrily. ‘The moonlight showed me the trail she made, and when I came upstairs to tell you that, what did I find? You were already talking to her and probably not for the first time.’
I remembered the first night when I went up to Alice’s room and gave her the book. As I went inside, the candle had still been smoking in front of the mirror.
‘You probably brought her here,’ I accused. ‘You told her where I was.’
‘Ain’t true, that,’ Alice said, an anger in her voice that matched my own. She took about three steps closer to me. ‘Sniffed her out, I did, and I used the mirror to see where she was. Didn’t realize she was so close, did I? She was too strong for me so I couldn’t break away. Lucky you came in when you did. Lucky for me you broke that mirror.’
I wanted to believe Alice but how could I trust her? When she moved a couple of paces nearer, I half turned, ready to jump down onto the grass on the other side of the fence. ‘I’m going back to Chipenden to fetch Mr Gregory,’ I told her. ‘He’ll know what to do.’
‘Ain’t time for that, said Alice. ‘When you get back it’ll be too late. There’s the baby to think about. Mother Malkin wants to hurt you but she’ll be hungry for human blood. Young blood’s what she likes best. That’s what makes her strongest.’
My fear had made me forget about Ellie’s baby. Alice was right. The witch wouldn’t want to possess it but she’d certainly want its blood. When I brought the Spook back it would be too late.
‘But what can I do?’ I asked. ‘What chance have I got against Mother Malkin?’
Alice shrugged and turned down the corners of her mouth. ‘That’s your business. Surely Old Gregory taught you something that could be useful? If you didn’t write it down in that notebook of yours, then maybe it’s inside your head. You just have to remember it, that’s all.’
‘He’s not said that much about witches,’ I said, suddenly feeling annoyed with the Spook. Most of my training so far had been about boggarts, with little bits on ghasts and ghosts; while all my problems had been caused by witches.
I still didn’t trust Alice, but now, after what she’d just said, I couldn’t leave for Chipenden. I’d never get the Spook back here in time. Her warning about the threat to Ellie’s baby seemed well intentioned, but if Alice were possessed, or on Mother Malkin’s side, they were the very words that gave me no choree but to go back down the hill towards the farm. The very words that would keep me from warning the Spook, yet keep me where the witch could get her hands on me at a time of her own choosing.
On the way down the hill I kept my distance from Alice, but she was at my side when we walked into the yard and crossed close to the front of the barn.
Snout was there sharpening his knives; he looked up when he saw me and nodded. I nodded back. After he’d nodded at me he just stared at Alice without speaking, but he looked her up and down twice. Then, just before we reached the kitchen door, he whistled long and loud. Snout’s face had more in common with a pig’s than with a wolf’s but it was that kind of whistle, heavy with mockery.
Alice pretended not to hear him. Before making the breakfast she had another job to do: she went straight into the kitchen and started preparing the chicken we’d be having for our midday meal. It was hanging from a hook by the door, its neck off and its insides already pulled out the evening before. She set to work cleaning it with water and salt, her eyes concentrating hard on what she was doing so that her busy fingers wouldn’t miss the tiniest bit.
It was then, as I watched her, that I finally remembered something that might just work against a possessed body.
Salt and iron!
I couldn’t be sure but it was worth a try. It was what the Spook used to bind a boggart into a pit and it might just work against a witch. If I threw it at someone possessed, it might just drive Mother Malkin out.
I didn’t trust Alice and didn’t want her to see me helping myself to the salt, so I had to wait until she’d stopped cleaning the chicken and left the kitchen. That done, before going out to start my own chores, I paid a visit to Dad’s workshop.
It didn’t take me long to find what I needed. From amongst the large collection of files on the shelf above his workbench I chose the biggest and roughest toothed of them all. It was the one called a ‘bastard’ which, when I was younger, gave me the only chance of ever using that word without getting a clip round the ear. Soon I was filing away at the edge of an old iron bucket, the noise setting my teeth on edge. But it wasn’t long before an even louder noise split the air.
It was the scream of a dying pig, the first of five.
I knew that Mother Malkin could be anywhere, and if she hadn’t already possessed someone, she might choose a victim at any moment. So I had to concentrate and be on my guard at all times. But at least now I had something to defend myself with.
Jack wanted me to help Snout but I was always ready with an excuse, claiming that I was finishing this or just about to do that. If I got stuck working with Snout I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on everyone else. As I was just his brother visiting for a few days, not the hired help, Jack wasn’t able to insist but he came very close to it.
In the end, after lunch, his face as black as thunder, he was forced to help Snout himself, which was exactly what I wanted. If he was working in front of the barn, I could keep an eye on him from a distance. I kept using excuses to check on Alice and Ellie too. Either one of them could be possessed, but if it were Ellie, there’d not be much chance of saving the baby: most of the time it was either in her arms or sleeping in its cot close to her side.
I had the salt and iron but I wasn’t sure whether it would be enough. The best th
ing would have been a silver chain. Even a short one would have been better than nothing. When I was little, I’d once overheard Dad and Mam talking about a silver chain that belonged to her. I’d never seen her wearing one but it might still be in the house somewhere - maybe in the storeroom just below the attic, which Mam always kept locked.
But their bedroom wasn’t locked. Normally I’d never have gone into their room without permission but I was desperate. I searched Mam’s jewellery box. There were brooches and rings in the box, but no silver chain. I searched the whole room. I felt really guilty looking through the drawers but I did it anyway. I thought there might have been a key to the storeroom but I didn’t find it.
While I was searching, I heard Jack’s big boots coming up the stairs. I kept very still, hardly daring to breathe, but he just came up to his bedroom for a few moments and went straight down again. After that, I completed my search but found nothing so I went down to check on everyone once more.
That day the air had been still and calm, but when I walked by the barn, a breeze had sprung up. The sun was beginning to go down, lighting everything up in a warm, red glow and promising fine weather for the following day. At the front of the barn three dead pigs were now hanging, head down, from big hooks. They were pink and freshly scraped, the last one still dripping blood into a bucket, and Snout was on his knees wrestling with the fourth, which was giving him a hard time of it - it was difficult to tell which of them was grunting the loudest.
Jack, the front of his shirt soaked in blood, glared at me as I passed but I just smiled and nodded. They were just getting on with the work in hand and there was still quite a bit to do, so they’d be at it long after the sun had set. But so far there wasn’t the slightest sign of dizziness, not even a hint of possession.
Within an hour it was dark. Jack and Snout were still working by the light of the fire that was flickering their shadows across the yard.
The horror began as I went to the shed at the back of the barn to fetch a bag of spuds from the store ...
I heard a scream. It was a scream filled with terror. The scream of a woman facing the very worst thing that could possibly happen to her.
I dropped the sack of potatoes and ran round to the front of the barn. There, I came to a sudden halt, hardly able to believe what I was seeing.
Ellie was standing about twenty paces away, holding both her arms out, screaming and screaming as if she were being tortured. At her feet lay Jack, blood all over his face. I thought Ellie was screaming because of Jack - but no, it was because of Snout.
He was facing towards me, as if he were waiting for me to arrive. In his left hand he was holding his favourite sharp knife, the long one he always used to cut a pig’s throat. I froze in horror because I knew what I’d heard in Ellie’s scream.
With his right arm, he was cradling her baby.
There was thick pig blood on Snout’s boots and it was still dripping onto them from his apron. He moved the knife closer to the baby.
‘Come here, boy,’ he called in my direction. ‘Come to me.’ Then he laughed.
His mouth had opened and closed as he spoke but it wasn’t his voice that came out. It was Mother Malkin’s. Neither was it his usual deep belly-rumble of laughter. It was the cackle of the witch.
I took a slow step towards Snout. Then another one. I wanted to get closer to him. I wanted to save Ellie’s baby. I tried to go faster. But I couldn’t. My feet felt as heavy as lead. It was like desperately trying to run in a nightmare. My legs were moving as if they didn’t belong to me.
I suddenly realized something that brought me out in a cold sweat. I wasn’t just moving towards Snout because I wanted to. It was because Mother Malkin had summoned me. She was drawing me towards him at the pace she wanted, drawing me towards his waiting knife. I wasn’t going to the rescue. I was just going to die. I was under some sort of spell. A spell of compulsion.
I’d felt something similar down by the river, but just in time my left hand and arm had acted by themselves to knock Mother Malkin into the water. Now my limbs were as powerless as my mind.
I was moving closer to Snout. Closer and closer to his waiting knife. His eyes were the eyes of Mother Malkin, and his face was bulging horribly. It was as if the witch inside were distorting its shape, swelling the cheeks close to bursting, bulging the eyes close to popping, beetling the brow into craggy overhanging cliffs; below them the bulbous, protruding eyes centred with fire, casting a red, baleful glow before them.
I took another step and felt my heart thud. Another step and it thudded again. I was much nearer to Snout by now. Thud, thud went my heart, a beat for each step.
When I was no more than five paces from the waiting knife, I heard Alice running towards us, screaming my name. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, moving out of the darkness into the glow from the fire. She was heading straight towards Snout, her black hair streaming back from her head as if she were running directly into a gale.
Without even breaking her stride, she kicked towards Snout with all her might. She aimed just above his leather apron, and I watched the toe of her pointy shoe disappear so deeply into his fat belly that only the heel was visible.
Snout gasped, doubled over and dropped Ellie’s baby, but, lithe like a year-old cat, Alice dropped to her knees and caught her just before she hit the ground. Then she spun away, running back towards Ellie.
At the very moment that Alice’s pointy shoe touched Snouf’s belly, the spell was broken. I was free again. Free to move my own limbs. Free to move. Or free to attack.
Snout was almost bent in two but he straightened back up, and although he’d dropped the baby, he was still holding the knife. I watched as he moved it towards me. He staggered a bit too - perhaps he was dizzy, or maybe it was just a reaction to Alice’s pointy shoe.
Free of the spell, a whole range of feelings surged up inside me. There was sorrow for what had been done to Jack, horror at the danger Ellie’s baby had been in and anger that this could happen to my family. And in that moment I knew that I was born to be a spook. The very best spook who’d ever lived. I could and would make Mam proud of me.
You see, rather than being filled with fear, I was all ice and fire. Deep inside I was raging, full of hot anger that was threatening to explode. While on the outside I was as cold as ice, my mind sharp and clear, my breathing slow.
I thrust my hands into my breeches pockets. Then I brought them out fast, each fist full of what it had found there, and hurled each handful straight at Snout’s head, something white from my right hand and something dark from my left. They came together, a white and a black cloud, just as they struck his face and shoulders.
Salt and iron - the same mixture so effective against a boggart. Iron to bleed away its strength; salt to burn it. Iron filings from the edge of the old bucket and salt from Mam’s kitchen store. I was just hoping that it would have the same effect on a witch.
I suppose having a mixture like that thrown into your face wouldn’t do anybody much good - at the very least it would make you cough and splutter - but the effect on Snout was much worse than that. First he opened his hand and let the knife fall. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he pitched slowly forward, down onto his knees. Then he hit his forehead very hard on the ground and his face twisted to one side.
Something thick and slimy began to ooze out of his left nostril. I just stood there watching, unable to move as Mother Malkin slowly bubbled and twisted from his nose into the shape that I remembered. It was her all right, but some of her was the same while other bits were different.
For one thing, she was less than a third of the size she’d been the last time I saw her. Now her shoulders were hardly past my knees, but she was still wearing the long cloak, which was trailing on the ground, and the grey and white hair still fell onto her hunched shoulders like mildewy curtains. It was her skin that was really different. All glistening, strange and sort of twisted and stretched. However, the red eyes hadn’t changed, an
d they glared at me once before she turned and began to move away towards the corner of the barn. She seemed to be shrinking even more and I wondered if that was the salt and iron still having an effect. I didn’t know what more I could do, so I just stood there watching her go, too exhausted to move.
Alice wasn’t having that. By now she’d handed the baby to Ellie and she came running across and made straight for the fire. She picked up a piece of wood that was burning at one end, then ran at Mother Malkin, holding it out in front of her.
I knew what she was going to do. One touch and the witch would go up in flames. Something inside me couldn’t let that happen because it was too horrible, so I caught Alice by the arm as she ran past and spun her round so that she dropped the burning log.
She turned on me, her face full of fury, and I thought I was about to feel a pointy shoe. Instead, she gripped my forearm so tightly that her fingernails actually bit deep into the flesh.
‘Get harder or you won’t survive!’ she hissed into my face. ‘Just doing what Old Gregory says won’t be enough. You’ll die like the others!’
She released my arm and I looked down at it and saw beads of blood where her nails had cut into me.
‘You have to burn a witch,’ Alice said, the anger in her voice lessening, ‘to make sure they don’t come back. Putting them in the ground ain’t no good. It just delays things. Old Gregory knows that but he’s too soft to use burning. Now it’s too late .. .’
Mother Malkin was disappearing round the side of the barn into the shadows, still shrinking with each step, her black cloak trailing on the ground behind her.
It was then that I realized the witch had made a big mistake. She’d taken the wrong route, right across the largest pigpen. By now she was small enough to fit under the lowest plank of wood.