Part 5 (1/2)

'Will John know where the key is?' Meg asked. 'Probably. Why don't we ask him when he gets back?'

'Yes, Billy, that's a good idea. We'll do that!'

Meg smiled at me through her tears and walked back up the steps. I led her into the kitchen and sat her down in her rocking chair by the fire.

'You sit here and warm yourself, Meg. I'll go and make you another cup of herb tea. You'll need it after being down those cold damp stairs ...'

Meg had already drunk her usual dose for the day and I didn't want to risk making her ill, so I just put a very small amount in her cup and added hot water.

She thanked me and soon gulped it down. By the time the Spook returned she was already asleep.

When I told him what had happened, he shook his head. T don't like the sound of this, lad! From now on her morning dose needs to be three quarters of an inch in the bottom of a cup. I don't want to do it but we've no choice.'

He looked really down in the mouth. I'd rarely seen him look so dejected. But I soon found out that it wasn't just because of Meg.

'I've had some bad news, lad,' he told me, sinking wearily into a chair by the kitchen fire. 'Emily Burns has pa.s.sed away. She's been cold in her grave for over a month.'

I didn't know what to say. Long years had pa.s.sed since he'd been with Emily. Since then Meg had been the woman in his life. Why should he be so sad?

'I'm sorry' I said lamely.

'But not half as sorry as me, lad' the Spook said gruffly. 'She was a good woman, Emily. She had a hard life but always did her best. The world will be a poorer place now that she's gone! When the good die, it sometimes unshackles evil which would otherwise have been kept in check!'

I was going to ask him what he meant by those mysterious words, but at that point Meg started to stir and opened her eyes so we lapsed into silence and he didn't mention Emily again.

At breakfast on the eighth morning after we'd arrived, the Spook pushed back his plate, complimented Meg on her cooking and then turned to me.

'Well, lad, I think it's about time you went to see how the girl's coping. Think you can find your way?'

I nodded, trying not to grin too widely, and within ten minutes I was striding down the clough to emerge onto the hillside with the open sky above. I headed north of Adlington, towards Moor View Farm, where Alice was staying.

When the Spook had decided to travel to his winter house, I'd a.s.sumed that the weather would break soon afterwards, and indeed it had been getting steadily colder. But today things seemed to have changed for the better. Although it was a cold, frosty morning, the sun was s.h.i.+ning, the air was clear and I could see for miles. It was the kind of morning when it feels good to be alive.

Alice must have seen me approaching down the hill because she came out of the farmyard and walked up to meet me. There was a small wood just outside the boundary of the farm and she waited there in the shadow of the trees. She looked really gloomy, so I knew, even before we spoke, that she wasn't happy in her new home.

'It ain't fair, Tom. Old Gregory couldn't have found me a worse place to stay! Ain't much fun staying with the Hursts.'

'Is it really that bad, Alice?' I asked.

'Be better off at Pendle, and that's saying something.'

Pendle was where most of Alice's family of witches lived. She hated it there because they treated her badly.

'Are they cruel to you, Alice?' I asked, becoming alarmed.

Alice shook her head. 'Ain't laid a hand on me yet. But they don't talk to me much either. And it didn't take me long to work out why they're so quiet and unhappy. It's that son of theirs - the one called Morgan, who Old Gregory asked about. Cruel and mean, he is. A really nasty piece of work. What kind of son would hit his own father and shout at his mother till she cries? He don't even call 'em Mam and Dad. 'Old Man' and 'Old Woman' is the best they get from him. Scared of him, they are, and they lied to Old Gregory because Morgan visits a lot. Dread his visits, they do. Nothing to do with me, but I can't stand much more of it. If need be, one way or another, I'll sort him out.'

'Don't do anything yet,' I told her. 'Let me talk to the Spook first.'

'Don't think he'll exactly be rus.h.i.+ng to help. Reckon Old Gregory's done it on purpose. That son of theirs is one of his own kind. Wears a cloak and hood and carries a staff too! Probably asked him to keep an eye on me.'

'Well, he's not a spook, Alice.' 'What else could he be?'

'He's one of the Spook's failed apprentices and they don't get on. Remember the last night at Chipenden when I brought that letter and the Spook got really angry? Didn't get a chance to tell you, but that letter was from Morgan. He's been threatening the Spook. He said my master's got something that belongs to him.'

'Well, he's a nasty piece of work all right,' continued Alice. 'Don't only visit the house. Some nights he walks down the hill and goes to the lake. Watched him last night. He stands right on the edge of the sh.o.r.e and stares at the water. Sometimes his mouth moves like he's talking to someone. His sister drowned in the lake, didn't she? Reckon he's talking to her ghost. Wouldn't be surprised if he drowned her!'

'And he hits his dad?' I asked. That had shocked me more than anything. It made me think of my own dad, and a lump came to my throat at the memory. How could anyone raise a fist to their own dad?

Alice nodded. 'They've rowed twice since I've been here. Big rows. First time, old Mr Hurst tried to push him out of the house and they struggled. Morgan's much younger and stronger and you can guess who came off worst. Second time he dragged his dad upstairs and locked him in his room. The old man started crying. I didn't like that. It made me remember what it was like living with my own family back in Pendle. Maybe if you tell Old Gregory how bad it is, he'll let me come and stay with you.'

'I don't think you'd like it much up on Anglezarke. The cellar's full of pits and he has two live witches down there, and one of them is Meg's sister and she's a feral lamia. Watching her scuttle about her pit is really scary. But I feel most sorry for Meg herself. You were right about her. She does live in the house with the Spook, but he's got her dosed up with a potion so that she can't remember who she is. She spends more than half the year locked in a room downstairs near the cellar. It's really sad to watch. But the Spook hasn't any choice. It's either that or put her in a pit like her sister.'

'It ain't right to keep a witch in a pit. Never did hold with that. But I'd still rather be there with you than here having to see Morgan most days. I feel lonely, Tom. I miss you!'

'I miss you too, Alice, but there's nothing I can do about it at the moment. I will tell the Spook what you've said though, and ask him again. I'll do my best, I promise. Anyway, is Morgan down there now?' I asked, nodding towards the farm.

Alice shook her head. 'Not seen him since yesterday. No doubt he'll be back soon.'

We didn't talk much longer after that because Mrs Hurst, the farmer's wife, came to the back door and started yelling Alice's name, so she had to go.

Alice pulled a face and raised her eyes to heaven.

'I'll come back and see you soon!' I said as she turned to go.

'Do that, Tom. But ask Old Gregory, please!'

I didn't go straight back to the Spook's house though. I climbed right up onto the moor, to where the wind could blow the cobwebs from my mind. My first impression was that the moor-top was pretty flat, and the scenery was nowhere near as good as on the fells above Chipenden. Neither was the view of the countryside below as dramatic.

Still, there were higher hills to the south and east, and beyond Anglezarke, even more moors. There was Winter Hill and Rivington directly south, Smithhills beyond that and, to the east, Turton Moor and Darwen Moor. I knew that because I'd studied the Spook's maps before we left, taking care to fold them properly afterwards. So I already had a good idea of the layout of the area in my head. There was lots to explore and I decided I'd ask the Spook if I could have a day off to do just that before the winter weather really closed in. I thought he'd probably agree because part of a spook's job is to know the geography of the County, in order to get quickly from place to place and find the way when someone sends for help.

I walked further until I saw a small domed hill in the distance, right on top of the moor. It looked artificial and I guessed that it was a barrow, a burial mound for some ancient chieftain. Just as I was about to turn away, a figure appeared on its summit. He carried a staff in his left hand and wore a cloak with its hood pulled forward. It had to be Morgan!

His appearance on the barrow was so sudden that it almost seemed as if he'd materialized out of thin air. However, common sense told me that he'd simply walked up the slope on the far side of the hill.

But what was he doing? I couldn't work it out. It looked like some sort of dance! He was throwing himself about and waving his arms in the air. Then, very suddenly, he gave a roar of rage and hurled his staff to the ground. He was in a fury. But at what?

A moment later and a patch of mist drifted in from the east to hide him, so I walked on. I certainly didn't fancy meeting him face to face. Especially with the mood he was in!

After that I didn't stay too long up on the moors. Anyway, if I returned in reasonable time, the Spook would be more likely to let me go and see Alice again soon. And I wanted to get back and tell him what I had learned.

So after our midday meal I told my master about seeing Morgan up on the moor and all that Alice had said about him.

The Spook scratched his beard and sighed. 'The girl's right. Morgan's a nasty piece of work, that's for sure. He dresses like a spook, and that's what some gullible folk now think he is. But he lacked the discipline to master our trade. He was lazy too and liked to cut corners. It's almost eighteen years since he left me, and since then he's mostly been up to no good. He fancies himself as a mage and takes money from good honest folk who are at their most vulnerable. I tried to stop him falling into bad ways but some people, it seems, just refuse to be helped.'

'A mage?' I asked, not familiar with the word.