But at the same time I couldn’t help feeling a bit annoyed. All that time waiting for something to happen, then the moment I’m away the Spook goes off without me!
* * *
I slept well that night but not so deeply that I failed to hear the bell summoning me to breakfast.
I went downstairs on time and was rewarded with the best plate of bacon and eggs I’d eaten in the Spook’s house. I was so pleased that, just before leaving the table, I spoke out loud, using the words that my dad said every Sunday after lunch.
‘That was really good,’ I said. ‘My compliments to the cook.’
No sooner had I spoken than the fire flared up in the grate and a cat began to purr. I couldn’t see a cat but the noise it was making was so loud that I’ll swear the windowpanes were rattling. It was obvious that I’d said the right thing.
So, feeling right pleased with myself, I set off for the village to pick up the provisions. The sun was shining out of a blue, cloudless sky, the birds were singing and after the previous day’s rain the whole world seemed bright and gleaming and new.
I started at the butcher’s, collected the Spook’s sack, moved on to the greengrocer’s and finished at the baker’s. Some village lads were leaning against the wall nearby. There weren’t as many as last time and their leader, the big lad with the neck like a bull’s, wasn’t with them.
Remembering what the Spook had said, I walked straight up to them. ‘I’m sorry about last time,’ I said, ‘but I’m new and didn’t understand the rules properly. Mr Gregory said that you can have an apple and a cake each.’ So saying, I opened the sack and handed each lad just what I’d promised. Their eyes opened so wide that they almost popped out of their sockets and each muttered his thanks.
At the top of the lane someone was waiting for me. It was the girl called Alice, and once again she was standing in the shadow of the trees as if she didn’t like the sunlight.
‘You can have an apple and a cake,’ I told her.
To my surprise she shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry at the moment,’ she said. ‘But there’s something that I do want. I need you to keep your promise. I need some help.’
I shrugged. A promise is a promise and I remembered making it. So what else could I do but keep my word?
‘Tell me what you want and I’ll do my best,’ I replied.
Once more her face lit up into a really broad smile. She wore a black dress and had pointy shoes but that smile somehow made me forget all that. Still, what she said next set me worrying and quite spoiled the rest of the day.
‘Ain’t going to tell you now,’ she said. ‘Tell you this evening, I will, just as the sun goes down. Come to me when you hear Old Gregory’s bell.’
I heard the bell just before sunset, and with a heavy heart went down the hill towards the circle of willow trees where the lanes crossed. It didn’t seem right, her ringing the bell like that. Not unless she had work for the Spook, but somehow I doubted that.
Far above, the last rays of the sun were bathing the summits of the fells in a faint orange glow, but down below amongst the withy trees it was grey and full of shadows.
I shivered when I saw the girl because she was pulling the rope with just one hand yet making the clappers of the big bell dance wildly. Despite her slim arms and narrow waist, she had to be very strong.
She stopped ringing as soon as I showed my face and rested her hands on her hips while the branches continued to dance and shake overhead. We just stared at each other for ages, until my eyes were drawn down towards a basket at her feet. There was something inside it covered with a black cloth.
She lifted the basket and held it out to me.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘It’s for you, so that you can keep your promise.’
I accepted it but I wasn’t feeling very happy. Curious, I reached inside to lift the black cloth.
‘No, leave it be,’ Alice snapped, a sharp edge to her voice. ‘Don’t let the air get to them or they’ll spoil.’
‘What are they?’ I asked. It was growing darker by the minute and I was starting to feel nervous.
‘They’re just cakes.’
‘Thank you very much,’ I said.
‘They’re not for you,’ she said, a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth. ‘Those cakes are for Old Mother Malkin.’
My mouth became dry and a chill ran down my spine. Mother Malkin, the live witch the Spook kept in a pit in his garden.
‘I don’t think Mr Gregory would like it,’ I said. ‘He told me to keep away from her.’
‘He’s a very cruel man, Old Gregory,’ said Alice. ‘Poor Mother Malkin’s been in that damp, dark hole in the ground for almost thirteen years now. Is it right to treat an old woman so badly?’
I shrugged. I hadn’t been happy about it myself. It was hard to defend what he’d done, but he’d said there was a very good reason for it.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘you won’t get into trouble because Old Gregory need never know. It’s just comfort you’re bringing to her. Her favourite cakes made by family. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Just something to keep up her strength against the cold. Gets right into her bones, it does.’
Once again I shrugged. All the best arguments seemed to belong to her.
‘So just give her a cake each night. Three cakes for three nights. Best do it at midnight because it’s then that she gets most peckish. Give her the first one tonight.’
Alice turned to go but stopped and turned to give me a smile. ‘We could become good friends, you and me,’ she said with a chuckle.
Then she disappeared into the deepening shadows.
Chapter Eight
Old Mother Malkin
Back at the Spook’s cottage, I began to worry, but the more I thought about it, the less clear I was in my own mind. I knew what the Spook would say. He’d throw the cakes away and give me a long lesson on witches and problems with girls wearing pointy shoes.
He wasn’t here so that didn’t enter into it. There were two things that made me go into the darkness of the eastern garden, where he kept the witches. The first was my promise to Alice.
‘Never make a promise that you’re not prepared to keep,’ my dad always told me. So I had little choice. He’d taught me right from wrong, and just because I was the Spook’s apprentice, it didn’t mean I’d to change all my ways.
Secondly, I didn’t hold with keeping an old woman as a prisoner in a hole in the ground. Doing that to a dead witch seemed reasonable, but not to a live one. I remember wondering what terrible crime she’d committed to deserve that.
What harm could it do just to give her three cakes? A bit of comfort from her family against the cold and damp, that’s all it was. The Spook had told me to trust my instincts, and after weighing things in the balance I felt that I was doing the right thing.
The only problem was that I had to take the cakes myself, at midnight. It gets pretty dark by then, especially if there’s no moon visible.
I approached the eastern garden carrying the basket. It was dark, but not quite as dark as I’d expected. For one thing, my eyes have always been pretty sharp at night. My mam’s always good in the dark and I think I get it from her side. And for another, it was a cloudless night and the moonlight helped me to pick out my way.
As I entered the trees, it suddenly grew colder and I shivered. By the time I reached the first grave, the one with the stone border and the thirteen bars, I felt even colder. That was where the first witch was buried. She was feeble, with little strength, or so the Spook had said. No need to worry there, I told myself, trying hard to believe it.
Making up my mind to give Mother Malkin the cakes in daylight was one thing, but now, down in the garden close to midnight, I was no longer so sure. The Spook had told me to keep well away after dark. He’d warned me more than once so it had to be an important rule and now I was breaking it.
There were all sorts of faint sounds. The rustlings and twitchings were prob
ably nothing, just small creatures I’d disturbed moving out of my path, but they reminded me that I’d no right to be here.
The Spook had told me that the other two witches were about twenty paces further on, so I counted my steps out carefully. That brought me to a second grave which was just like the first one. I got closer, just to be sure. There were the bars and you could see the earth just beneath them, hard-packed soil without even a single blade of grass. This witch was dead but was still dangerous. She was the one who had been buried head downwards. That meant that the soles of her feet were somewhere just below the soil.
As I stared at the grave I thought I saw something move. It was a sort of twitch; probably just my imagination, or maybe some small animal - a mouse or a shrew or something. I moved on quickly. What if it had been a toe?
Three more paces brought me to the place I was looking for - there was no doubt about it. Again, there was a border of stones with thirteen bars. There were three differences though. Firstly, the area under the bars was a square rather than an oblong. Secondly, it was bigger, probably about four paces by four. Thirdly, there was no packed earth under the bars, just a very black hole in the ground.
I halted in my tracks and listened carefully. There hadn’t been much noise so far, just the faint rustlings of night creatures and a gentle breeze. A breeze so light that I’d hardly noticed it. I noticed it when it stopped though. Suddenly everything was very still and the wood became unnaturally quiet.
You see, I had been listening to try and hear the witch and now I sensed that she was listening to me.
The silence seemed to go on and on for ever, until suddenly I became aware of a faint breathing from the pit. That sound somehow made it possible to move, so I took a few more steps till I was standing very close to its edge, with the toe of my boot actually touching the stone border.
At that moment I remembered something the Spook had told me about Mother Malkin...
‘Most of her power’s bled away into the earth but she’d love to get her hands on a lad like you.’
So I took a step backwards - not too far, but the Spook’s words had set me thinking. What if a hand came out of the pit and grabbed my ankle?
Wanting to get it over with, I called down gently into the darkness. "Mother Malkin,’ I said. ‘I’ve brought something for you. It’s a present from your family. Are you there? Are you listening?’
There was no reply, but the rhythm of the breathing below seemed to quicken. So wasting no more time and desperate to get back to the warmth of the Spook’s house, I reached into the basket and felt under the cloth. My fingers closed upon one of the cakes. It felt sort of soft and squishy and a bit sticky. I pulled it out and held it over the bars.
‘It’s just a cake,’ I said softly. ‘I hope it makes you feel better. I’ll bring you another one tomorrow night.’
With those words, I let go of the cake and allowed it to fall into the darkness.
I should have gone back to the cottage immediately but I stayed for a few more seconds to listen. I don’t know what I expected to hear but it was a mistake.
There was a movement in the pit, as if something were dragging itself along the ground. And then I heard the witch begin to eat the cake.
I thought some of my brothers made unpleasant noises at the table but this was far worse. It sounded even more revolting than our big hairy pigs with their snouts in the swill bucket, a mixture of snuffling, snorting and chewing mixed with heavy breathing. I didn’t know whether or not she was enjoying the cake, but she certainly made enough noise about it.
That night I found it very hard to sleep. I kept thinking about the dark pit and worrying about having to visit it again the following night.
I only just made it down to breakfast on time and the bacon was burnt and the bread a bit on the stale side. I couldn’t understand why this was - I’d bought the bread fresh from the baker’s only the day before. Not only that, the milk was sour. Could it be because the boggart was angry with me? Did it know what I’d been up to? Had it spoiled the breakfast as some sort of warning?
Working on a farm is hard and that was what I was used to. The Spook hadn’t left me any tasks to do, so I’d nothing to fill my day with. I did walk up to the library, thinking that he probably wouldn’t mind if I found myself something useful to read, but to my disappointment the door was locked.
So what could I do but go for a walk? I decided to explore the fells, firstly climbing Parlick Pike; at the summit I sat on the cairn of stones and admired the view.
It was a clear, bright day and from up there I could see the County spread out below me, with the distant sea an inviting, twinkling blue, way out to the northwest. The fells seemed to go on for ever, great hills with names like Calder Fell and Stake House Fell - so many that it seemed it would take a lifetime to explore them.
Nearby was Wolf Fell and it made me wonder whether there actually were any wolves in the area. Wolves could be dangerous and it was said that in winter, when the weather was cold, they sometimes hunted in packs. Well, it was spring now, and I certainly didn’t see any sign of them but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. It made me realize that being up on the fells after nightfall would be quite scary.
Not as scary, I decided, as having to go and feed Mother Malkin another of the cakes, and all too soon the sun began to sink towards the west and I was forced to climb down towards Chipenden again.
Once more I found myself carrying the basket through the darkness of the garden. This time I decided to get it over with quickly. Wasting no time, I dropped the second sticky cake through the bars into the black pit.
It was only when it was too late, the very second it left my ringers, that I noticed something that sent a chill straight to my heart.
The bars above the pit had been bent. Last night they’d been perfectly straight, thirteen parallel rods of iron. Now the centre ones were almost wide enough to get a head through.
They could have been bent by someone on the outside, above ground, but I doubted that. The Spook had told me that the gardens and house were guarded and that nobody could get in. He hadn’t said how and by what but I guessed it was by some sort of boggart. Perhaps the same one that made the meals.
So it had to be the witch. She must have climbed up the side of the pit somehow and begun working at the bars. Suddenly the truth of what was happening dawned inside my head.
I’d been so stupid! The cakes were making her stronger.
I heard her below in the darkness, starting to eat the second cake, making the same horrible chewing, snuffling and snorting noises. I left the trees quickly and went back to the cottage. For all I knew she might not even need the third one.
After another sleepless night I’d made up my mind. I decided to go and see Alice, give her back the last cake and explain to her why I couldn’t keep my promise.
First I had to find her. Straight after breakfast I went down to the wood where we’d first met and walked through to its far edge. Alice had said she lived ‘yonder’ but there was no sign of any buildings, just low hills and valleys and more woods in the distance.
Thinking it would be faster to ask directions, I went down into the village. There were surprisingly few people about, but as I’d expected, some of the lads were hanging about near the baker’s. It seemed to be their favourite spot. Perhaps they liked the smell. I know I did. Freshly baked bread has one of the best smells in all the world.
They weren’t very friendly considering that last time we’d met, I’d given them a cake and an apple each. That was probably because this time the big lad with piggy eyes was with them. Still, they did listen to what I had to say. I didn’t go into details - just told them I needed to find the girl we’d met at the edge of the wood.
‘I know where she might be,’ said the big lad, scowling fiercely, ‘but you’d be stupid to go there.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Didn’t you hear what she said?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘She s
aid Bony Lizzie was her aunt.’
‘Who’s Bony Lizzie?’
They looked at each other and shook their heads as if I were mad. Why was it that everyone seemed to have heard of her but me?
‘Lizzie and her grandmother spent a whole winter here before Gregory sorted them out. My dad’s always going on about them. They were just about the scariest witches there’ve ever been in these parts. They lived with something just as scary though. It looked like a man but it was really big, with too many teeth to fit into its mouth. That’s what my dad told me. He said that back then, during that long winter, people never went out after dark. Some spook you’ll be if you’ve never even heard of Bony Lizzie.’
I didn’t like the sound of that one little bit. I realized I’d been really stupid. If only I’d told the Spook about my talk with Alice he’d have realized that Lizzie was back and would have done something about it.
According to the big lad’s dad, Bony Lizzie had lived on a farm about three miles south-east of the Spook’s place. It had been deserted for years and nobody ever went there. So that was the most likely place she’d be staying now. That seemed about right to me, because it was in the direction that Alice had pointed.
Just then a group of grim-faced people came out of the church. They turned the corner in a straggly line and headed up the hill towards the fells, the village priest in the lead. They were dressed in warm clothing and many of them were carrying walking sticks.
‘What’s all that about?’ I asked.
‘A child went missing last night,’ answered one of the lads, spitting onto the cobbles. ‘A three-year-old. They think he’s wandered off up there. Mind you, it’s not the first. Two days ago a baby went missing from a farm over on the Long Ridge. It was too young to walk, so it must have been carried off. They think it could be wolves. It was a bad winter and that sometimes brings them back.’